


Second Son

by SometimeLonely



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Illnesses, M/M, Mpreg, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:37:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 42,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SometimeLonely/pseuds/SometimeLonely
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an AU where Odin is the father he always should have been to his sons, Loki is raised as the much cherished second prince of Asgard, loved by none more than his family. When he falls ill, Thor will stop at nothing to find the cure. Though it is forbidden he travels to Midgard in his search. Midgard, where a certain Captain has just been awoken from his 70 year sleep in the ice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Odin Contemplates

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story I've worked on in a long time and any feedback would be much appreciated!

     Odin, called the Allfather, has ever appreciated the early mornings in Asgard.  Save for a few memorable occasions when he and his lady spent the night previous and the morning after indulging themselves in a hedonistic marathon of sorts he has never been one to lie abed well into the day.  There is always too much to accomplish, too much to see done or begun.  Perhaps it is because of this that the time before Asgard awakes, just before the sun peeks over the horizon, has ever been a favorite of his.  It feels peaceful before the problems of the realm, and indeed all nine of the realms, can be brought to his attention.  It is the only time he can be, first and foremost, a husband and a father.  He smiles softly thinking of his wife lying in their bed, long hair flowing out around her like a river of softened gold, a small smile on her face as she dreams pleasant things, just a few creases in her beautiful facade.  Numbering just enough to display her love of laughter on her face.  He thinks that he wouldn’t mind if there were more.  They are not as young as they once were, after all, and there is beauty to be found in the marks that give away age.  To him it simply shows the universe that his wife is a mighty warrior in her own right, a shield maiden of Asgard capable of keeping herself alive these many years through her strength, wisdom, and magic.

     He often envies Frigga her capability with magic.  It is something that he has never had an aptitude in.  There is an innate power in him given by virtue of the fact that he is the Allfather.  It is a magic passed down from father to son just as the rule of Asgard is passed.  It allows him to nearly any and all powers needed to protect and preserve the realm, and the inner wisdom to know when to use them, but he has no real control over them.  He can never say, if asked after the fact, what he has done.  Somehow his words become power and as that power flows through him it works in ways he doesn’t understand to become exactly what he needs.  With Frigga it is different.  She controls every aspect of her magic, down to the most nominal detail.  Her copies are exact, so much so that even he can’t tell the difference.  The beautiful little entertainments she and Loki make together at almost every evening feast as their younger sits on her lap happily are absolutely exquisite.  He often wishes they were solid just to study them closer.

     Loki.  His thoughts turn to his youngest and he turns swiftly, leaving the private balcony off of the chambers he shares with his queen, suddenly needing to see his youngest for himself.  It has ever been a fear of his, hidden so deep in his heart that he cannot express it, even to Frigga, that some day he will wake to find Loki gone.  That somehow Laufey will have come in the night to steal back that which Odin saved from death.  He enters Loki’s room silently as the dawn and makes his way to the large bed.  His youngest looks so small and pale against the dark green sheets.   Loki is curled up on his side, his arms and legs pulled in tight, and his face is peaceful, sweet and impossibly young in his sleep.  The knot in Odin’s gut loosens.  His son is exactly where he should be, safe, protected, and taken care of.  He cannot help himself.  He lies on the bed and studies the features of that which he claimed as his own.

     When Thor was born his birth was somewhat overshadowed by the grief of losing Gaia to childbirth.  As much as Odin loved his eldest from the moment he took his first breath he cannot help but see his first wife whenever he looks at him.   He and Gaia had too little time together, and they’d always known that she was fragile, but the healers had thought her strong enough for one child.  He cannot regret that she insisted on carrying and birthing Thor.  Thor is everything he ever thought he wanted in a son.  Thor is bright and strong, willful and golden as Gaia was.  He looks just like her with his ice blue eyes and his spun gold hair.  He loves Thor more than anything and he would have liked to have seen Gaia raise him.  But, Fate often has a way of making things as they should be and he would never trade the family he has now in Frigga, Thor, and Loki for what he and Gaia might have had.  They are all everything to him, but there is an especially tender place in his heart for Loki.

     The first time he laid eyes on Loki, at the height of the war with the race he had been taught to hate, his life was changed forever.  Along with his heart.  The battle was nearing its end, the Frost Giants were defeated but not yet willing to surrender.  Laufey was unconscious and being guarded by some of his most trusted men as he searched for The Casket, the loss of which would keep the Frost Giants at bay and return peace to the nine realms.  As he was making his way back to the great doors, the Casket in his hands, victory assured, he heard it.  The small cry of a newborn babe.  Not strong and lusty like Thor’s were just after his birth, but fragile, weak…pathetic almost.  He considered moving on, but found that he could not leave the babe to suffer if there was something he could do to put it out of it’s misery.  He strode up to the pile of furs thrown carelessly on a jagged ice table and froze.  The baby was small, much smaller than it should have been, and obviously neglected.  Just days old and already it looked as if it was starving.  He didn’t know what staid the hand resting on his sword, but he removed it from his hilt and let it drift to the babe closer to death than to life. 

     He touched the navy blue skin, surprised when it didn’t burn his hand, and the child stopped crying.  Odin looked on in absolute amazement as the skin under his hand began to pink and warm until it covered the little body and even the bright red eyes burned into an emerald green.  The babe, tired and weak as it was, smiled at him and attempted to coo.  Odin felt his breath catch and his heart stutter in his chest.  When his men came into the room he handed over the Casket without thinking so that he could sweep the infant into his arms, furs and all.  First he unwrapped the babe, checking the biology, to find the infant was male.  Then, he tucked the furs around the small body once more, tightly, to keep him warm, and gave into the urge that had possessed him.  He kissed and nuzzled the boy’s temple.

     “It’s alright now, little one,” He whispered, “My little…Loki.”

     He called an end to the battle, to the war, despite his warriors’ protests.  Laufey was defeated, the Frost Giants’ power stripped with the loss of the Casket and the destruction of their inter-world portal.  He would not destroy an entire race for the actions of their leader and a select few.  And Loki was the most important thing at the time.  He knew the child was just hours away from death and he could not allow that to happen.  So he brought Loki home to his new wife and to his bright son.  Frigga fell in love with him on sight and swept him away.  He didn’t see his wife or Loki again for three days.  On the dawn of the forth Frigga carried a much improved Loki into their bedchamber and sat on her chaise to look out at the rising sun, Loki sleeping peacefully on her chest.  He walked over to them slowly, not wanting to break the spell, and sat on the edge of the chaise.  Frigga looked over at him, tears in her eyes, and set a hand to his cheek.

     “Thank you, my love,” she said quietly, “For this gift.”

     “A gift to all of us,” He responded, just as gently, “To complete our family.”

     She handed the baby to him and he stood, carrying Loki out onto their balcony and into the warming sun.  Loki wrinkled his little nose and turned his face trustingly into Odin’s chest and for only the second time in all his long life Odin fell completely, irrevocably in love with someone.

     The love has only grown in the years since and as he looks at his younger, safe and warm and at peace in his sleep his heart settles into place once more.  He loved Gaia, he loves Frigga, but nothing can compare to the love he feels for his boys.  He gently runs a finger down Loki’s pale face and smiles when his son comes awake immediately, his eyes still sleepy, but aware.

     “Father?” He whispers around a yawn, “Is something wrong?”

     “Nothing, dear one,” He assures Loki, “Go back to sleep.  It is not yet time to be about.”

     Loki closes his eyes, trusting his father implicitly, and somehow manages to make his way into Odin’s arms without having looked like he moved at all.  Odin closes his eye and smiles against the dark hair.  Every now and again, he thinks, perhaps it is acceptable to lounge a bit in bed. 

 


	2. Frigga Discusses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frigga meets with the Jotun Queen and learns some important facts from her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has really taken over my mind. I haven't written in so long. Posting two chapters in two weeks is really good for me. I really appreciate every comment and every kudo. 
> 
> I want to firmly establish Loki's position and history in Asgard before I move on, so it may be a few chapters before we get to Steve and Earth. I hope no one minds too much.
> 
> I'm not sure about this history and the addition of this OC, but I hope it will make sense in the long run and help give Loki a solid support in his life.

Frigga, Queen of Asgard, wife of Odin and mother of Thor and Loki, is never anything but poised and gracious, especially when attending to state matters, but there are times when her most fervent wish is that she can be. She rolls her eyes and shifts her weight as yet another round of posturing begins between the diplomats of Asgard and the diplomats sent from Jotunheim. It is a major step that there is a delegation that agreed to meet in The Citadel at all, but if these testosterone driven men of both races don’t put aside the past and their pride she is afraid that they are never going to get anywhere. They may, in fact, begin the war anew. It is only when she hears the frustrated, long suffering sigh that she’s been longing to release from across the room and her eyes meet with the Jotun Queen’s that she finally feels comfortable enough to take control from the politicians. 

Odin has trusted her with these careful negotiations, knowing that she is the more diplomatic of the two of them. They are partners in all things and they play to their strengths. It is not a strength to present a delegation meant for peace with the man who personally defeated their race in a war that spanned five hundred years. The Jotun’s nearly refused the talks when they requested that the current monarch attend to speak with Frigga, but, they were informed, N’Daia is the most progressive queen that has ever ruled over the Jotun people and she personally accepted the invitation to the talks. Frigga is glad now that she did.

“Gentlemen,” she says with all of the steel in her voice that helped her become not only the chief magician and queen of Asgard, but also a celebrated shield maiden before she earned either of the other titles, “That will be quite enough, I think. Your services will no longer be required. Queen N’Daia and I can handle things from here.”

“Majesty!” 

“Queen Frigga!”

“Lady Queen!”

The protests are not unexpected, from either side, and all the men are on their feet and angry so quickly that she almost smiles. Queen N’Daia is not so controlled and allows an inelegant snort of laughter loose. Frigga allows her lips to curve up slightly before holding up her hand for silence.

“My Lady Queen?” She arches an eyebrow at the Jotun queen at the other end of the table, so different from herself and yet so similar in goal for her people.

“I agree to the terms set by Lady Asgard,” N’Daia’s smile is almost predatory, her Asgardian heavily accented, “No more male posturing. Out. Now.”

“I perhaps would have been a little more diplomatic in my dismissal of the men,” Frigga says quietly as the door slams behind the angry diplomats of both races.

“Your people cater to the males of your race more than mine ever have,” N’Daia returns as both women stand. Frigga leads the way to a small table on the veranda, big enough that they don’t feel crowded and small enough to still feel intimate. N’Daia sits comfortably in the light snow that is falling and Frigga’s handmaiden appears as if from nowhere with the queen’s light winter cloak, the one with the bilgeschnipe fur on the collar from Thor’s first kill. She fingers it for just a moment, remembering, before turning back to N’Daia and smiling. She takes a moment to consider the Jotun queen. Like her own son, N’Daia seems small for her race, barely taller than Frigga herself. Even in the chill winter air she is barely covered by skins, the dark markings of her race are prominent and proudly displayed. Her feet are bare and she should seem savage, but there is something about the way she carries herself that speaks to nobility, royalty. It is impossible to tell the age of a Jotun. The Aesir do not know the things that mark age on the Jotun people and it has long since been considered rude to ask. But, she seems to be as old as Frigga as far as she can tell. Perhaps a little older. Her blood red eyes are intense and focused, but not near insanity like so many others of her race that Frigga has seen. Frigga allows herself a small laugh, feeling more comfortable than perhaps she should.

“Perhaps you’re right. We do tend to cater to our males perhaps more than we should. Their egos are fragile and when they are inflated our men tend to do what we lead them to do without complaint.” She shrugs delicately and accepts the warm mead her handmaiden offers her. N’Daia accepts the same.

“Life is harsher in my realm,” She says carefully after a sip.

“I’ve no doubt,” Frigga agrees, “There has ever been tension between our people and I must believe that part of the reasoning is that we simply do not understand each other.”

“That and Laufey,” N’Daia says the name as if it leaves a bad taste in her mouth, “We are as long lived as you, Lady Asgard, and it has been too many years to count since Laufey, traitorous general to my father, took power. We are not a naturally war-minded race. Under my father we were content. Life has always been hard on Jotunheim, but the people helped each other and we were at peace with the other realms.”

“I remember,” Frigga can smile at the memory, “When I was a little girl one of my favorite friends was the Jotun ambassador’s son. His mother was the last Jotun female I remember seeing in a position of power.”

“Another of Laufey’s changes. Jotun women were considered equal in all things until he came to power. With his death we are now taking back that power.”

“As it should be,” Frigga smiles with her eyes and raises her glass. She is surprised when N’Daia lifts her glass as well. They take a sip at the same time and Frigga considers her words carefully before she speaks again, “My husband king understands that much of the animosity between our peoples and the greatest cause of the bloodiest war in our histories was Laufey. But, there has been too much blood, too many deaths, and too much hate between us to simply accept that your people are ready for a complete truce.”

“We say the same,” N’Daia’s eyes are hard now, “Your husband king invaded our realm, cut us off from the other realms, and stole our greatest treasure. He is still called Rochten among our people. It means baby killer…for all of the generations of children that he prevented being born by the Jotun men he killed. How could we ever trust…”

“Mother…” The voice, soft as a dove’s coo, interrupts the tirade, and cuts the tension. Frigga turns to the door, where her youngest is peaking so that just his eyes are visible.

“Loki,” Frigga motions him out, “Please excuse me a moment, Lady Jotun.” She turns to her son when he walks slowly toward the table. She sighs softly to see the glassy surface of his eyes, the color high in his cheeks in an otherwise pale face.

“I’m sorry, Mother,” he says quietly, “Father and Thor are training and…”

“No apology, young prince.” N’Daia’s strained voice is a surprise to both Frigga and her son, “Comfort always comes best from a mother. You are not feeling well?”  
Loki looks over at N’Daia curiously. There is no fear in his eyes and for that Frigga is grateful, “Loki, use your manners, my love, and greet the lady queen of Jotunheim, Lady N’Daia.”

“Your majesty,” Loki bows slightly and nearly topples over with dizziness. Frigga takes him by his elbows and lifts him into her lap to rock him gently.

“Oh, my dearest,” She sighs. After Odin rescued Loki and they brought him back to health there was a time of good health for him, but in the recent years he has been ill more often than not. At first it was just slight fevers that tired him. Now the fevers come with dizzy spells and fainting. His appetite is off and his thin frame cannot afford to lose any weight as it is. She has never fretted after anything the way she frets after Loki’s health.

“Sleep,” N’Daia whispers in her own language, one of the few words Frigga recognizes, and Loki slackens in her arms. Frigga fights down terror and anger as her hand moves swiftly to the dagger at her waist.

“What are you doing?” She asks tightly.

“Your boy is Jotun,” N’Daia accuses, “Is he another stolen relic your husband brought home to you? Meant to force us into peace?”

Frigga allows her voice to go to the ice she knows frightens, “If you ever suggest such a thing again I will kill you where you stand and lead the war party to Jotunheim myself. My husband found our son in Laufey’s palace during the last battle. He was just days old and nearly dead of neglect. My Odin fell in love with him in that instant and brought him home to me to nurse back to health. We have ever loved him as our own and despite what you may think he is no bargaining tool. He is our son.”

“And my grandson,” N’Daia whispers.

“What?” Frigga balks and tightens her hold on Loki so as not to drop him.

“When the war with Asgard reached its peak the people were turning against Laufey. We’d had enough of his war mongering and we were tired of losing all of our young men. To keep the people in line Laufey arranged a marriage between himself and a member of the old royal family. My daughter. He forced her away from her father and I, married her against her will, and raped her. We were planning an attack to rescue her and kill Laufey when Odin attacked our realm. I never knew she’d given birth, but see here, Lady Asgard.”

N’Daia reaches out and touches a finger to Loki’s cheek. The navy blue of a Jotun begins to spread across Loki’s skin and Frigga watches in fascination. She’s never seen Loki in his natural state as Odin had. Her boy’s beautiful elfin features are all there and the dark markings that spread across the navy blue skin are absolutely breathtaking. 

“This marking here,” N’Daia pulls the shoulder strap of her minimal clothing down, “Is shared my members of the same direct family. The family with the stronger blood is the marking that shows in a child.” 

Frigga eyes the swirling mark on N’Daia’s shoulder and takes a deep breath before she moves aside Loki’s tunic. The markings are the same and Frigga feels the air go out of her lungs in a rush. She covers the marking again and holds Loki even closer, not conscious of the slight burn to her skin where she pressing it against Loki’s bare forehead. 

“Just a warning, Queen Jotun,” She says as quietly with as much conviction as she has in her body, “We will go to war over our son. He may be your family by blood but he is ours by love and we will do whatever it takes to keep him safe with us.” 

“I could not take him now,” N’Daia sounds like her heart is breaking, “I am not Laufey. I could not take a child from a family he loves like my daughter was taken from me. And I now have the answer to the question I wanted to ask you, Frigga.”

Frigga balks at the familiarity, but chooses not to take offence. She is still tense, but relaxes slightly when she thinks about N’Daia’s words about never taking a child from the family he loves. She believes her after hearing what Laufey did to her daughter. Surely, she will never let her grandson suffer in such a similar fashion. 

“What was that question, N’Daia?”

“How could I ever trust Odin? How could my people?”

“And the answer?”

“I can’t trust the Odin my people call Rochten. But, I can trust the man who saved my grandson and would go to war to keep him. Out of love. We will learn to co-exist, Frigga Queen, if only for the sake of one we both love so dearly. We will negotiate.”

Frigga releases the breath she didn’t even know she was holding, “I am glad to hear you say it, Lady N’Daia. I should not admit it, but Loki is the entire reason Odin and I decided to open talks to Jotunheim again once news of Laufey’s death reached us. His health…”

“You are treating him as if he is Asgardian.” N’Daia says confidently, “He is not. He is small for a Jotun which means he is powerful in magic. Another of Laufey’s faults is that he had no respect for magic and those who use it. Jotun born small are the most powerful of us all.”

“Like yourself,” Frigga raises her eyebrow elegantly.

“Like myself,” N’Daia is in her element now and her confidence and ease with the subject is apparent, “It is why he takes and holds the look of the Aesir. He does not even realize he does it yet he holds the spell constantly. But, just because he looks like you doesn’t mean he is one of you. Even now, in this, your winter, it is warm for him, for our kind.”

“He is in a constant state of sun fever?” Frigga asks, coming to the realization herself.

“Very near it,” N’Daia confirms, “He does not know to control his inner temperature to keep himself healthy because he does not know he has to.” She looks up at Frigga and for a moment Frigga sees the same love for Loki she has ever seen in Odin’s eyes, in Thor’s eyes. Everything they know about the Jotun people is wrong, all assumptions made based on the things they learned from Laufey’s actions. N’Daia loved her daughter more than anything and due to this she will love Loki in the same way. Frigga can tell when N’Daia is feeling exposed because the Jotun woman looks down before stroking a hand over Loki’s soft black hair.

“He looks so like my Kytlai. She would have loved to meet him. His magic is strong, Frigga, and he will have magic that no Aesir has ever seen. He will need to be trained on Jotunheim for a time when he is older. I would like him to know his heritage.”

“We want that for him as well, N’Daia. It may take some time for attitudes to change, but once they have we intend to tell our people, and Loki, about his true parentage. He deserves to know how rich his history is, how much he is loved in both realms.”

“Until that time I will manipulate his magic to ensure his continued health.”

N’Daia whispers words in the language that Frigga does not understand and she sighs happily when she feels Loki’s fever begin to lower and his breathing even out when she hadn’t even realized that it was off. When she looks back down at him his skin has returned to the pale pink she recognizes and he is sleeping more peacefully than he has in a long time.

“You will work on this end and I will work tirelessly on mine,” N’Daia says and Frigga makes a small sound of gentle agreement from the back of her throat. 

They will make it work. For the life and sanity of the one she is holding in her arms, one of the two children she has taken as her own, they must.


	3. Loki Discovers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay. Real life gets in the way. I am going to try to be much better about updates. The whole story is planned...It's just finding the time to put it all down. Thank you to anyone still willing to read!

Odin awakens with the absolute certainty that something is wrong. He sits up in the bed he shares with his wife, his heart feeling as though it is pounding in his throat, and panic rising hot and fast in his mind. It has been years since he has felt such fear as this, he has perhaps not felt such panic since his father was cut down in battle and he became a king and the All-Father in a single instant. The rush of power into his body on the battlefield, the sudden knowledge of so many souls in all the nine realms becoming his responsibility in just the span of a breath, had nearly driven him to a knee, so certain he was that he was losing his mind. It was the last time he can remember feeling so frighteningly overwhelmed. He puts his bare feet to the floor and the coolness of the grand tiles against his skin gives him grounding in something other than his panic and he is able to think again.  


The panic is not his own. It is the first thing he realizes when the fist in his chest has loosened enough for him to breathe again. Once again the powers of the All Father surprise him. He has ever known how his wife is feeling and her mental state, but that is due more to her magic than his own. His Thor is an open book, everything he is feeling is written on his face. He is also as Odin himself was at his age, a creature of simple habits and wants. As much as Odin loves him to claim that Thor is a complex child would be doing him a disservice. He is simple in the best possible way, not hard to please, and does not think about matters long enough after they have occurred to allow them to worry him. Given this, and the fact that Frigga sleeps beside him, seemingly quietly, it does not take him long to come to the conclusion that the panic he is feeling in his mind belongs to Loki.

No sooner has the thought crossed his mind than Frigga sits up with a gasp, their younger son’s name on her lips.

“He is in the vault,” is the only thing she must say before they are both out of the bed and on their way, their hands linked and their hearts pounding in synch. They have known this day was approaching. On the day Odin announced that the Casket would be returned to the Jotun royal family he took Loki and Thor into the vault, telling them of the great and terrible war, of the king who put his own selfish ambitions before his people, and who was subsequently defeated because of it. He told them of a millennia of hate between their peoples and how they’d begun to heal the hate after Laufey’s death. Odin knows that Loki felt the draw to the Casket. He saw it in his eyes and he felt it in the tension of the small body next to his. All Jotun are drawn to the Casket. He managed to keep Loki from touching it in Thor’s presence, but he knew he would not be able to keep him from it once he saw it. And now he has found it. When he is alone in the middle of the night.

They reach the vault just as Loki is tearing out of it as if the hounds of Hel are at his back. It is the first time Odin has seen Loki’s Jotun form since he found him as a babe. He studies his son, even as he opens his arms to catch him in his flight. The navy skin, etched with the lines of his people, the royal family, and the bright red eyes suit him just as the pale, pale skin and sharp green eyes suit him. He is still tall for his age for an Aesir, small for a Jotun, and cord thin with the angular features that will make potential partners sigh over him as he ages. There are tears streaming from his eyes as he struggles against Odin’s arms.

“Let me go!” He demands, his voice high and clear as it has always been.

“No, my Loki,” Odin murmurs, bending over his child and setting his cheek to the dark hair. Frigga steps into place behind Loki and presses herself to his back so that they are surrounding him.

“What am I?” Loki’s scream dissolves into a sob as his knees finally give. Frigga and Odin let their bodies go with his and keep him in between them as he sobs, his thin form shaking as if it will break with the force of his emotions. Even as he sobs he struggles to free himself from them. Odin tightens his arms around his son and feels his wife do the same, keeping Loki safely between them until finally his struggles cease. He falls limp and the frame they make with their arms is the only thing keeping him upright, but his sobs do not cease. Frigga begins to sing quietly, the same melody that she has sung to both of their boys since they were very young, as they weather the storm of Loki’s emotions. He has ever been so, keeping his emotions locked away until the release of them is like a hurricane force. Odin knows it is not only this discovery that Loki is releasing now and he wishes that his son trusted him as implicitly has he had as a young boy so that his hurts would not gather so, but he has lived long enough to know that all young men face a time in their lives when they do not tell their fathers their troubles. The best course of action now is to let the phase run its course as it must and build Loki up again when he falls apart.

Loki’s sobs eventually slow to hitching breaths. When he is finally calm enough to listen Frigga tells Loki softly, “You are our son.”

“I am Jotun!” Loki screams, his voice beginning to sound panicked again as his emotions come back to the surface. He stiffens in their arms and Odin knows that he will try to flee again. Before he can Frigga murmurs softly into his hair and Odin feels some of the tension leave Loki’s body. Frigga has placed a small calming charm on their son and Odin cannot feel anything but grateful. If Loki is not clam enough to listen to them they will never make him understand. He turns his attention back to Loki and presses a kiss to the navy blue forehead, ignoring the slight burn to his lips from the cool of Loki’s skin.

“Yes,” Odin agrees, murmuring against Loki’s skin and touching two fingers to his chin. The pink begins to come back into his skin as Odin turns his youngest’s face to him, “You are Jotun by birth, my son. The day I found you in the Jotun palace, abandoned, left to die, was the day the war ended. I could no more leave you there than I could have left Thor. The moment I saw you I felt something that I had never felt before. An overwhelming love. For something so alien to me. A Jotun child. My enemy. And the only thing I could think as you ceased crying in my arms and looked up at me with eyes much too intelligent for a babe was that I loved you. It was the same way I loved Thor the moment he was born. Completely. You were intended for us, Loki, whether you were born from us or not.” He looks into Frigga’s eyes over Loki’s head and can see the battle in them, just as he sees when she makes her decision.

“When I married your father, Loki,” She begins quietly, “It was the hardest decision I’d ever made. Loving him was easy. Leaving my home on Vanaheim was not. Coming to Asgard was…difficult to say the least. It took many years before this place felt like home and the people accepted me as their queen. I got the idea in my head that if I could produce a child, a royal babe for the people to love, they would accept me. The idea became an obsession and as much as I loved Thor, as much as I have always loved him, I could not shake free of it,” Frigga pulls Loki further into her arms, onto her lap, and rocks him as she had when he was younger and nightmares brought him out of his quiet sleep, “As the years passed with no child I began to be lost to my depression, feeling I had failed my king and our family. Thor could sense my unhappiness and in his baby sweetness was a constant reminder of all that was good, but it wasn’t until the day your father rode his horse all the way into the palace and placed you in my arms that I felt complete. For three days I watched your struggle for life. You needed me more than anyone or anything ever had before. In those three days I became your mother and I came to realize that I did not need the approval of the people to fulfill my place and duties as a queen, a wife and a mother. I only needed the love of my husband, my Thor, and my Loki. It is you, my love, who made us a family complete and whole. It has always been you. Nothing ever has, or ever will, change our love for you.”

“Why have you not told me before now?” Loki asks quietly, allowing his mother to hold him close, as he has not for many years and slipping his hand into Odin’s, needing the comfort and grounding.

“Our love for you could not change a thousand years of hatred overnight, Loki. We do not wish for you to hide away who you are, dearest, but we needed to make certain that it would be safe for your true heritage to be revealed. The lady queen N’Daia has been working tirelessly on Jotunheim to heal the hatred as we have worked here.”

“And now, Mother,” his voice is small and childlike, “Now is it safe?”

“Yes, my Loki,” Odin answers for her, tightening his grip on his son’s hand, “When you are comfortable, my son, we will reveal your true heritage. But, never doubt whose son you are.”

The smile on Loki’s face is tremulous, but true as he presses his forehead to Odin’s hand. They bring him into their bed that night, knowing that he needs the comfort of sleeping between them, the reassurance of their love. Odin awakes in the morning, Frigga pressed against his chest as she watches both of their sons, oblivious to their wakened parents. They are sitting on her chaise, Loki’s skin blue and his eyes red, Thor bright and golden as the sun, so obviously brothers despite their differences. And they are laughing together as they always have as Thor tests how long he can keep his palm pressed against Loki’s. As they tease and bicker as brothers should Odin presses a kiss Frigga’s neck and knows there has never been a happier man.


	4. Thor Feels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has returned home from training in Jotun magic for fifty years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the delay. I wanted this to come out much sooner. I can't make promises, but I'm hoping to have more out soon. So, no, this is not the end! As much as it seems like it is, I promise it is not. We still have to get to Steve, after all. And yes, to answer a question put to me, the other Avengers will be making an appearance as well!

“Brother!” Thor feels no shame or embarrassment at the way his large voice booms and echoes in the open, circular room as his brother, so long away from him, walks gracefully off of the Bifrost , home at last. Thor cannot believe his eyes and feels his breath catch in his chest with unexpected emotion. Gone is the gawky youth, all knees and elbows and entirely too intelligent eye, that Loki was when he left with his maternal grandmother to learn the ways of Jotun magic. Before him stands a man, confident and grown into himself. Loki will ever be built in a more slight form than Thor himself, but woe to any who would underestimate him. Thor can see how much power and control there is in that slim form. There is danger and death in Loki’s grace and Thor finds that he can breathe again as his chest swells with pride. Gone is the questioning boy who would stand behind and allow Thor the lead every time, always second guessing himself. No, in Loki Thor now sees the confidence of a Prince of The Realm in his strong eyes, the strength of a king in the way the head is held so high and the shoulders so squared. No, Loki will not step behind now. He will take control of the situations he can, make his opinion know in those that are not his to control. And they will both be better for it, Thor knows. These fifty years without his brother by his side have taught him just how much he still has to learn. In many ways, Loki may have surpassed him. Then, Loki looks at him. And just there…the mischievous quirk of the eyebrow, the simple tug upwards in the corner of the mouth…there is his proof that the man before him is his brother still.

For a moment Thor fears that perhaps Loki’s affections toward him have changed in his time away as Loki holds himself away and stiff instead of coming into Thor’s offered embrace. But then, the Lady Queen of Jotunheim steps through the Bifrost as well and Thor understand as he drops his arms and makes a hasty, ungraceful bow to Queen N’Daia. He hadn’t realized that Queen N’Daia would be accompanying her grandson on his return journey, but now he wonders if perhaps his mother and father did, as they forbade all but himself to welcome Loki home. Loki holds his hand out in a courtly manner to escort his grandmother and she gives an inelegant snort and bats his hand away before nodding to Thor. That seems to break Loki’s formality and as fast as he can move he has crossed the room to accept and return Thor’s embrace.

The embrace is long and hearty and Thor gets his first real, physical indication of how much Loki has grown. When he left Thor could still tuck him under his chin when they embraced. Now their eyes nearly meet. Loki’s hair has grown long but Thor is inordinately pleased to see the raven tresses plaited in the familiar, traditional Asgardian warriors style that most adopt before going into battle. He stills smells of sharp spice and freshly fallen snow. Feeling him in his arms, Thor is acutely aware of just how much he has missed his brother these fifty years he has been away. He feels as if a piece of his heart has returned with the homecoming of the young man who is confidante, brother, and best friend all in one.

“You have grown mightily, my brother!” Thor pulls back only as far as allows him to place both hands on his brother’s shoulders and meet his eyes, “Never again are you to be away for so very long! I hardly recognize you. A great feast is to be held this night in honor of your return. Mother has spent day and night preparing for it. Father had secreted himself away for many days saying only that he prepares a gift for your return. Why so silent, brother? Has the Silvertongue been silenced? Will you not speak with me?”

“When have you given me a moments breath to do so, brother?” Loki’s voice is deeper and smoother than it was, but the humor in it, the clever tone, remain the same as they ever were and Thor laughs heartily before pressing a firm kiss to Loki’s temple and embracing him again.

“I have missed you, brother,” Loki says quietly and Thor can feel him gripping his cape.

He clasps him all the tighter and responds, “And I you.” He knows intellectually that Loki’s time on Jotunheim, learning to use and control magics that no Aesir can dream of was necessary, but his heart has ever rebelled so far from him this half century. He feels more glad and settled than he has since the day he and their parents sent Loki off.

“Come!” he says loudly after a moment, clapping a hand on Loki’s shoulder, “Let us away to your celebration feast.”

He offers his arm to Her Majesty N’Daia and grins when she accepts it as Loki speaks quietly to Heimdal for a moment. The ride on the Bifrost is filled with pleasant, light talk of Loki’s years of training before they reach the borders of the city. Then, the talking stops to be replaced by the happy surprise on Loki’s face as their people greet him and welcome him home as they ride through the city and toward The Citadel. Women and children tuck flowers and bright slips of cloth anywhere they can reach on his clothing and his steed’s tack. One particularly brave little girl demands that her father lift her above his head so that she can place a wreath of flowers on Loki’s brow and press a sweet kiss to his cheek. The men salute their princes in Asgardian style as they pass. With the acceptance, love, and full support of the royal family the Asgardian people had accepted the truth of Loki’s heritage by and far extremely well. But, Thor could always see that Loki heard the voices of those that opposed much more readily than he heard the voices of his supporters. It is good for him to see this now, that their people missed their intelligent and much loved second prince in his absence. 

Loki, after his initial shock, waves and is generally charming, letting children ride with him a little ways before handing them back down to their parents, accepting small gifts from the young men and women of courting age. As a second son he is going to be free to choose his own love as Thor may not be able to. Now that he has come of courting age there will be many who try to catch his eye. He performs little tricks and illusions as they ride, impressing and delighting those than surround them. Thor, for the most part, simply watches the joy on Loki’s face and the pride and happiness on Queen N’Daia’s. He comes to the realization, when they are nearly to The Citadel, that N’Daia travelled with Loki because she wanted to make certain for herself that Loki would be safe after so long away from Asgard when he’d left so soon after revealing his heritage. Thor is glad that they are going to be able to put her mind at rest. The people of Asgard change slowly, but they do change. Loki is beloved as a second price, but also as himself. Looking at Loki he is heartened to see that, perhaps, Loki is realizing it as well.

Thor can see the radiant excitement on their mother’s face reflected on Loki’s as they approach the steps of The Citadel. Loki dismounts in a flash and there is only the sweeping of his cape as he takes the steps two at a time to throw himself into Frigga’s open arms. Thor can see the delighted surprise on Frigga’s face when Loki can pull her in and tuck her under his chin. Thor is more sedate as he escorts Lady N’Daia from her mount and up the stairs, giving his mother and brother their moment to reunite.

“Oh, my son,” he hears her murmur around her tears as she cups Loki’s face in her hands and looks over him, “So grown. So handsome. I have missed you so.”

“I have missed you, Mother.” Loki lowers his head so that she can press a blessing kiss to his forehead before she takes his hand and turns him to where Odin stands on the very top step before the great doors, looking every inch The Allfather, Gungnir proudly by his side, standing tall, the emotion unreadable on his stoic face. For a moment Thor feels a concern he’s never felt when it comes to his father and his brother. All of their lives Odin has made it very clear that he adores both of his sons. Thor has no idea why he seems so closed off to Loki now on his return when he has been preparing for it so enthusiastically. Odin lifts Gungnir and allows the echoing sound of it meeting The Citadel’s golden steps to silence the chattering of the Aesir gathered to welcome home their second prince. The hush falls quickly and Thor can see the nerves on Loki’s face as he grips their mother’s hand.

“Loki Odinson,” Odin’s voice is strong and gruff, “You have returned to Asgard after these many years of training to hone your talents and warrior’s skills. Do you swear that you will use all you have learned, all you have become, for the protection of Asgard and, indeed, all of the realms?”

“I swear,” Loki says quietly, nearly a whisper, then louder when Frigga squeezes his hand encouragingly, “I swear!”

“And do you swear your fealty anew to the throne of Asgard and the peoples the throne protects, wherever in the realms they may be found?”

“I so swear!”

“Loki Odinson…I hereby present you this spear, forged by dwarves in the heat and promise of a new star. It is the spear of Earth, Darradrnir. May it be a loyal and true companion to only you in your defense and serving of the realms and the throne.”

Loki’s eyes are wide and wondering as Odin bids him forward with a gentle hand. It takes a soft nudge to his shoulder from Frigga before he moves up the stairs slowly, as if in a dream. Thor closes his eyes for just a moment to remember the moment when their father granted him Mjolnir, just before Loki left to train on Jotunheim. It was the proudest moment of his life to be granted so powerful a weapon in front of his friends, his mother, his brother. Proof of his might in battle, his growth as a prince of the realm. He’d been as dazzled by the weapon that has become so much a part of him as Loki looks now as their father hands him the short spear. Thor has not seen it before now and he admires the wicked curve of the blade, the large jewel set into the ornate staff. Loki looks up hopefully for some reason that Thor doesn’t understand and feels his eyebrow lift when Odin nods with a small smile. Thor feels his breath catch when Loki holds his free hand over the jewel and murmurs some words under his breath. The power that seems to flow from Loki’s hand and into the jewel can be felt from where Thor is standing and he is sure the people gathered behind him can feel it as well. The power coming from Loki’s hand is visible as a green light and by the time Loki has completed whatever he is doing the jewel is glowing like the most beautiful, ethereal emerald. The gathered crowd begins to cheer as Loki completes the spell and lifts the spear high above his head with something akin to a battle cry. Thor feels the grin stretch across his face and turns to see an echoed expression across Lady N’Daia’s fierce face. For the first time he feels how tight her hand is on his arm and he covers it with his free hand in a show of solidarity before all gathered. He turns back when he hears Loki cry out for their father and feels the moisture gather in his eyes when he sees his father and Loki embracing tightly as a single tear makes it’s way from Odin’s eye and into his beard.

He barely hears the “Welcome home, my son,” from Odin above the cheering of the gathered.

Loki is clinging to their father like a child and obviously feeling no shame as he tucks his face against Odin’s neck, “Thank you, Father. It is good to be home.”

“Come!” Odin pulls back from the embrace after a moment, “We will feast in your honor. Queen N’Daia, we are gladdened to welcome you as an honored guest.”

“I thank you, Odin King.”

Thor is not upset when Lady N’Daia releases his arm to link her own with his mother’s. They have been great friends since Asgard re-opened relations with Jotunheim and Thor is secure enough to admit that Lady Quenn of Jotunheim has ever intimidated him. He follows behind his father and Loki and his mother and Queen N’Daia at the fairly sedate pace that the others are walking at. He wants, more than anything, to speak at length with his brother as they would have done had their ride to the palace been just the two of them, but Loki is walking close to their father, their heads close as they speak with animation and enthusiasm. Thor is grateful that his parents allowed him to greet Loki, but he wants more time with him. He has missed him fiercely.

As soon as Odin officially greets all gathered and begins the banquet, all of Loki’s favorite foods and much mead and ale, Sif and Hogun take Loki’s attentions. Thor can hardly blame them. They have ever been Loki’s closest friends, since the youngest of ages. A trio of…not quite misfits, not truly…but those who do not quite fit the old, outdated ideal of an Asgardian warrior. The Lady Sif, the first young woman to take it upon herself to be, not a shield maiden, but a true warrior of the realm. And Hogun, the quiet Vanir sent to train because he far outstripped the warriors on his own planet. Hogun and Loki have ever been studious and intense, quiet. Their combined control over their tempers is legendary and has been noted since they were children. Their friendship was no surprise to anyone. It was the addition of Sif into their private little circle that came as a surprise. She is often, and was as a child, brash and loud, feeling that she has to prove herself to those who surround her at every turn. Quick to anger, quicker to avenge a perceived slight. Her parents had despaired of ever teaching her to be a lady, and barring that, a useful warrior. But, when Loki and Hogun invited her into their midst everything seemed to settle. (Thor isn’t too proud to admit that his pride and ego prevented himself from doing it as a child.) Loki and Hogun level Sif and she pushes them out of their comfort zones. Thor has no doubt at all in his mind or heart that they will quickly become the inseparable trio they have always been. This belief strengthens when, as the evening wears on and there is a pleasant haze to everything around him, he sees Loki sitting on the floor, leaning against Hogun’s knees. Sif has draped herself against Loki’s side, more than a little drunk. Hogun plays absent-midedly with her long dark hair as he stares into his cup as if it holds the secrets of all the realms. Loki and Sif are laughing together, then she snuggles even more closely and lays her head on his shoulder.

Thor feels a tightening in his chest that he has never felt before. Of course, he has been aware of Sif’s skill for many years. She is one of the only warriors of the realm who can best him. He has never seen her sex as making her weaker or less capable than himself. But, it is only recently that he has become aware of her great beauty. Her pale skin, her bright eyes, somewhere between his own blue and Loki’s green, and the beautiful, lush hair that he longs to grip in his fingers as he pulls her head back and takes her mouth in a battle of an entirely different kind. He has never felt jealousy when it comes to his brother. Even with all of his magic Thor has never wanted to be Loki, has always been comfortable in his own skin. The jealousy in his chest as Loki embraces Sif does not sit well and he grabs another tankard of ale as a servant, nearly as drunk as the guests, passes. To ease the green monster in his chest he downs the tankard and throws it to the floor before grabbing a passing maid. She does not seem to mind being kissed senseless by the crown prince.

But, he finds that his heart is not in bedding her and after a time leaves her to the feast where he is sure she will find another bed partner. He walks into the cool night, onto the terrace, only to see his brother standing, bathed in moonlight, looking out over the city. And suddenly his petty jealously doesn’t matter, all of the words he wanted to say, all of the questions, none of it matters. He steps up beside his brother and breathes in peace. He looks at Loki and smiles.

And Loki smiles back.

Then, they both begin to laugh.


	5. Loki and Steve Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chance encounter on Midgard changes everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All previous disclaimers apply.
> 
> So...Steve and Loki meet. It goes a little fast in this chapter. I promise, it will all be explained later and in the coming chapters there will be more than just sex between them. There is method to my madness. Thanks for sticking with this.

"Brother!" Loki fights not to roll his eyes as he hears his brother call out to him as he and Sif make their way into what Loki believes Midgardians call a pub. Thor is either drunk off of the weak spirits they serve on Midgard or off of the atmosphere surrounding them. It could be either at this point. Midgardians are an incredible people, he must admit. There is a war on that is raging across a good percentage of their tiny planet and yet…And yet their spirits are high, their music is loud and wonderfully, ecstatically joyful. He has never heard such music. It has been nearly two hundred years since their father brought them to Midgard and the advances that have been made are simply incredible. Of course, they are nowhere near the might, the science and technology of Asgard, but the fact that they have come so far in such a short amount of time is testament to just how determined they are, just how much ingenuity they possess in the collective consciousness of their race.

Loki is most impressed by them and their spirit. It has been an enlightening, thoroughly entertaining trip. He almost wishes that Hogun had deigned to join them, but he had decided to visit his family and Loki cannot blame him. He gets real time on Vanaheim only rarely. He does not regret the fact that Volstagg stayed behind as well. There is no way the large, boisterous man would be able to control himself around such frivolity. Beside the fact that the woman he should marry, his beautiful, blonde Valkyrie is nearing her time with his child and no one of them has any doubt that she will give birth to the babe, bundle him up to make the trip across the Bi-Frost, and kill Volstagg happily with the babe in one hand and her blade in the other if he misses the birth. He can only imagine what ridiculous brawls would be started if Thor were accompanied by both Volstagg and Fandral. As it is Thor and Fandral have been having enough "fun" for a dozen Asgardian warriors on their leisurely journey to Midgard.

Sif stiffens next to him and Loki pats her hand companionably where it has tightened on his arm. He wishes, not for the first time, that Thor were more observant. As tough, as much of a warrior as Sif is, inside beats a heart that is as soft and yearning as any creature. He cannot comprehend why, but she has set that tender heart on Thor, and seeing him with drunken mortals hanging off of his arms, doing their level best to entice him into their beds, is doing nothing for her confidence as a woman. Loki raises his hand to Thor in greeting before pulling Sif close in this Midgardian era's style of dance and rolling his eyes dramatically. He is happy to see the small smile on Sif's face at his action.

"Oaf can't even hold this piss that they call ale," she murmurs, almost fondly.

"Ah, but he wouldn't be nearly so charming if he could," Loki smiles and spins her away from his body, pleased to hear her deep, smoky laughter before he spins her back in and leers, "You look ravishing this night, my lady. These mortal fashions do suit you so."

"Remove your wandering hand, Loki, or I shall remove it from your arm."

Loki laughs at the sweetness in her Sif's tone and the fire in her eyes before patting her backside affectionately and moving his hand back to the more socially acceptable small of her back.

"Perhaps we can make Thor jealous enough to act, hmm?" He murmurs as he pulls her close, speaking lowly in her ear.

"He will not act when he believes you interested in courting and bedding me, Loki," she sighs, "He's much too noble for that."

"Me?" Loki pulls back again, startled. As much as he had always felt a connection and kinship with Sif, the idea of courting her, of loving her in any manner other than that of a sister, is simply so absurd that he throws his head back and laughs long and loud. After a moment Sif joins him with a cascade of giggles that she tries to keep behind her hand. When she snorts inelegantly they both laugh all the harder, until they are leaning on each other to remain upright. Neither of them is conscious of the eyes on them until Thor and Fandral flank them.

"Why this mirth, friends?" Fandral asks.

"Thinking that any person would assume my interests in bed partner lie in the beauty that Sif holds when I much prefer the ruggedness of someone more like…" He looks his friend up and down with a grin, "Well, more like yourself, Fandral."

"Well, of course you prefer someone more like me," Fandral purrs smoothly as he slips an arm around Loki's waist, "I'm much more of a catch than Sif."

He is just drunk enough, apparently, that he thinks it a fine idea to pull Loki in, dip him backwards, and kiss him lavishly to within an inch of his life. For just a moment Loki closes his eyes and allows himself to wonder why he and Fandral have never had a tumble. He is obviously an explosive lover if his kiss is anything to go by. His reputation is well-deserved. It is only when Loki opens his eyes that he remembers why it is he has never allowed himself to take his pleasure with Fandral. His friend is leering open-eyed at the women in the room even as he kisses Loki like a condemned man. Loki's eyes dart to the men in the room. Most of them simply look shocked as they gaze upon something that is not yet socially acceptable on Midgard. A few look amused, but there are a growing number of them who look angry. Those are the ones who wear uniforms, like the ones that Loki has conjured for himself, Fandral, and Thor. It is the anger that Loki wishes to avoid. They are all so much stronger than these mortals and he would rather not have to hurt any of them. If there is a scuffle their father will never let them visit Midgard for holiday again. And it is such fun. He rights himself and pushes Fandral away with a dramatic sound of disgust as he wipes his mouth. Sif catches on as Fandral stumbles in her direction and she takes him in her arms.

"You missed, you drunk," She murmurs before kissing him with as much passion as is in her strong, beautiful body. Fandral, for his part, seems to catch on to the farce and dips Sif even deeper than he dipped Loki, closing his eyes and kissing her as just as lavishly, perhaps more. The tense atmosphere begins to lift as people begin to laugh, then breaks completely when Fandral lifts Sif, looks directly at Loki, and slurs drunkenly, "Your sister is the much better kisser."

Loki can tell Fandral is playing up the drunkenness and he is glad for it. There is plenty that Midgardians will dismiss as too much drink.

"Perhaps it is time to take our leave from this particular gathering," Loki murmurs to Thor. His brother has never been particularly astute when it comes to behavior, but he seems to understand the tension in Loki and nods, playing into the farce as he wraps Fandral's arm around his shoulder and laughs with him as they all stumble from the pub. Sif puts her arm through Loki's again as they walk, silently following the boisterous noise that Thor and Fandral make as they search for a new place of merriment. The walk in the cool evening air is relieving after the brief press of too many bodies. He has ever been a solitary individual, after all. He prefers his own company and the company of a select few to large gatherings. Even on Asgard he can only attend a large celebration feast for so long before he becomes claustrophobic. Being among so many mortals is even more difficult, but they are all here for Thor.

"He seems to be relaxing," Sif's small smile is a beauty to behold, secretive and sweet, it curls in just the corner of her mouth. Loki has only seen her smile like that when she is thinking of Thor. He wants to tell her that he knows of her love for his brother. And it is love. He has no doubt. But, he will never damage her pride that way. He knows it would only embarrass her to have someone, even himself, point out what she sees as a weakness.

"He does not say it aloud," Loki muses, "But, I know that Father's proclamation has been weighing heavily on him."

"The Allfather has only made it known that he will hand over rule to Thor within a century. Why allow himself to be concerned with it now?"

"He feels he will not make a good leader for the nine realms. He has been more…contemplative since my return from Jotunheim, more introspective. I believe he is looking within and, quite wrongly, not appreciating what he sees. He is a leader of men. They trust him. His tactical mind far outstrips that of the Allfather, our mother, perhaps even myself. He has the hearts of the people. He must trust himself and take the next century for what it is. An opportunity to learn all he can from Father. He will be a fine king. Perhaps the finest king Asgard and all the realms have ever seen."

"And you, Oh Silvertongue?" Sif leans her head against his shoulder briefly, "No desire for a throne yourself? You have the hearts of the people as well. The men trust you to lead them in to battle just as they do Thor."

"I have never wanted the throne, Sif," he says quietly, "I have only ever wanted to serve honorably, my father and my brother. Let them keep the heartache of ruling."

"I know, my dearest one," Sif presses a rare, sweet kiss to his cheek, "What I said was meant to be in jest." She pauses for a moment and her head cocks to the side like a bird, listening intently. He has seen her do this many times on the battlefield and tenses in anticipation as she casually brushes the long curls of her hair away from her neck. To any other it would seem a gesture with no meaning, but Loki knows better. He knows she takes in more in the brief moments her head is angled to the rear that most would if a full mark.

"Foe?" He asks quietly.

"I do not believe so," Her smile has transformed into a smirk, "He seems more curious than angry and he comes alone. He's well built. Attractive enough for a mortal, I suppose," She squeezes his arm where her hand rests on it and smiles, "Have your fun, Loki, but try not to wear him too badly. There is a war on, after all."

Loki's answering grin is mischievous and carefree and makes Sif laugh as she pulls away and lengthens her stride to catch up to Thor and Fandral, who are laughing and singing an Asgardian drinking song out of key purposefully. He smiles down at the pavement as he kneels and pretends to re-lace his Midgardian boots.

"You have been following," he says quietly when he senses the other is close enough to hear, " If it is to make trouble than I suggest we both simply walk away now."

"I don't want any trouble," The voice is sweetly naïve in some ways, steel under velvet in others and Loki shivers with it, "I…I was just…"

"Curious?"

"Yeah."

Loki smiles at the word and stands, turning around to meet the bluest eyes he has ever seen. Bluer even than Thor's or his mother's. It is the eyes that decide him on bedding the man. The eyes that are so very blue and so very good, earnest in every look. Just like the voice they are naïve in some ways, so very strong in others. It is after he has already made the decision to take the man in front of him that he takes a look at the rest of him. His breath catches at the prefect beauty before him. The sandy hair, the golden skin all perfectly packaged in an olive green uniform that only serves to make Loki want to pull it off to reveal the trim form beneath. The man is built like Thor, but the smooth cheek makes Loki imagine a completely hairless chest and he has to restrain himself to keep from licking his lips. It won't due to remind the beauty in front of him of his own peoples views and perhaps frighten him away from what may be an intensely enjoyable evening for them both.

"What, pray tell, are you curious about, soldier?"

"Captain…" The man says sheepishly, a flattering blush heating his cheeks and neck. Loki cocks his head.

"Captain," he repeats, "Do you always identify yourself by your rank?"

"No."

Loki half expects him to starts shuffling his feet from the way his head lowers and the blush intensifies. He is innocent and absolutely adorable, Loki decides.

"My best friend says it's more impressive to use my title. Apparently Captain America has some pull."

"Captain America?" Loki likes the taste of the name in his mouth.

"You…You don't know who I am?" Those eyes are bright and hopeful.

"I am afraid not, Captain." Loki inclines his head in deference to the title, a little mocking in a playful manner.

"That's…That's really refreshing actually. I…my name is Steven Rogers. Most people call me Steve."

"I find I prefer Steven," Loki smiles his most charming smile and holds out his hand in the fashion he has seen the Midgardian men use. He is pleasantly aware of the man's, Steven's, pulse pounding away when their hands meet. He allows his finger to extend and caress the pulse point and is pleased when Steven's intake of breath is audible and his pupils dilate noticeably. It is going to be a joy to have this responsive man in his bed and he can imagine only too well what it is going to feel like to have his legs wrapped around that trim waist as he is pounded into, "I am Loki."

"Like the Norse god?" Steven asks, surprising him. Most mortals have not spoken of those old legends in many years.

"Just so," He inclines his head with a smile, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Steven Rogers. What questions can I answer for you?"

"You just…when that other guy was…kissing you. You both played it off like a joke, but you…you both really seemed to be…"

"Enjoying it?" Loki asks quietly. The averted gaze is enough to tell Loki he is correct, "We were enjoying it, Steven," he says gently, "Where Fandral and I were raised it is no stranger to see a same sex couple than a woman and a man."

"But, that's not the way it is here," Steven says quietly.

"No," Loki agrees, then moves closer so that he is in Steven's personal space. The good captain does not step back, "But, that doesn't mean that what we feel is wrong, Steven."

"We…" Steven's head snaps up, mouth slightly open in shock. Loki takes advantage and, after a quick look around to confirm there is no one to see them, presses closer, wrapping his arm around Steven's waist and pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. He runs his tongue gently over Steven's upper lip before pulling back slightly, but keeping his hand splayed on Steven's hip. Just a taste and he is already burning for more, feeling himself harden. Steven tastes like light and innocence and barely controlled passion. Loki has never felt such electricity from such an innocent overture. He is hard to the point of pain and can think of nothing he wants more at that moment than Steven buried inside of him as soon and as often as possible.

He has never felt this way about any lover and for a moment he wonders what is happening to him. His body is heating and his heart pounding before they have even begun. He decides to take a step back, to catch his breath, but makes the mistake of looking at Steven. His pupils are blown wide in hungry eyes. And his expression…he looks like a man who has long been denied his hearts desire and has finally found it. Loki's breath catches again and he yearns to press Steven against the wall and rut against him, but something in his mind is still working. He knows that if a Midgardian were to catch them in a compromising position it could potentially be very bad for Steven. And he cannot let anything happen to Steven. That would simply be…unacceptable.

"Do you have someplace private…away from prying eyes?" Loki whispers.

"They put my team up in a boarding house." Steven says, "My room in the only one on the floor."

Loki feels almost giddy as they rush through the streets. He has to force himself not to reach out for Steven. It is still not safe. He can tell that Steven feels the same way from the way he forces his twitching hands away from Loki a dozen times as they nearly run to the boarding house. They both giggle in unmanly fashion as they stumble up the stairs to the highest floor, where the captain has taken a converted attic for his own. Loki manages to keep his hands off of the beautiful man as he makes his way around the room, closing the heavy curtains and lighting candles. Loki would rather that this, their first coupling be in brighter light so that he may see his partner, but he understand these wartime measures.

When Steven makes his way back to Loki to reach behind him and lock the door everything seems to slow. Loki allows Steven to push him against the door and cover his body entire with his own. They are nearly even matched in height, Steven may just be slightly taller, and so their desires line to each other. But, there is no immediate need to see to their desires, though Loki can feel that Steven is as hard as he is. The most pressing need is to feel how Steven presses him against he door, holding him there with a strength that a mortal should not possess. Loki wraps one arm around Steven's waist to pull him in as close as he can, then uses the other to interlock their fingers. Steven's free hand comes to rest above both their heads in the door and he leans in as if trying to make them one presence. For a moment they are simply together, breathing each other in, breath mingling. Loki has the strangest urge to breathe Steven's scent in and he doesn't stop himself. He lowers his face to Steven's neck where is joins his shoulder and breathes deeply, taking in his scent. It brings a heady euphoria upon him and he smiles before placing his lips just to Steven's pulse point.

"Oh, god," Steven murmurs, and Loki can feel his hips press just that much harder, "I…I've never done anything like this before."

"Not even with a woman?" Loki asks quietly.

"No," Steven answers honestly without hesitation.

"Steven…" Loki frees the hand he has wrapped around Steven's waist and cups the beautiful face in it. He draws Steven's face to his own and waits patiently until Steven closes the distance and their lips meet once more. The electricity is still there and it stokes the fire within him. He coaxes Steven's tongue out gently and encourages it to mingle with his own, teaching Steven even as he takes. Steven is a quick study and before long his kisses are leaving Loki breathless. He kisses like a drowning man and Loki has never been more swept away. For a long while all they do is kiss, leaning heavily into each other and letting each other simply be. It has been a long time since Loki has done anything of the kind and he finds that he misses it. He has forgotten over the years that sometimes the most arousing thing can be a simple kiss. He will not forget it again.

But, even as he revels in the kisses his body is demanding more in a way it never has before. He presses Steven back slightly and smiles at his disappointed pout on his flawless face. It only takes a moment for the pout to fade when he begins to undress Steven, starting with the formal jacket. Steven reaches out to loosen the tie at his throat when Loki does the same to him. They undress each other slowly, letting the clothing fall to the floor, until they are both bare. He takes a moment to admire Steven's perfection in the candlelight.

"Epic poetry should be written about your perfection," he murmurs.

"Not so bad yourself," Steven says quietly, "I…I don't know what to do."

"I'll teach you," Loki promises.

The bed is small, but fits them perfectly as Loki teaches Steven about making love to another man. There will be time, he thinks, for other kids of passion, the passion that he thought they would have when he was first to bed Steven. There will be time for throwing each other down and taking until neither of them can see straight. There will be time for hurried, hidden trysts. Because Loki does plan on there being more than one time. He came to Midgard for Thor. He will stay for Steven. There is something in him, some corner of his mind and his heart that he has never accessed, that is demanding that he be with Steven as long as he can. He talks Steven through preparing him using a lotion that he has on hand, wishing for Asgardian oil. When Steven has entered him and they are moving together he knows that it is the closest to Valhalla that he has ever been. He holds Steven as tightly as he dares and feels the tears in his eyes as the pleasure builds to blinding heights. There are tears in Steven's eyes as well and Loki wipes them away.

"I don't…" Steven pants, "I can't…"

"Together," Loki whispers.

When they fall, they fall together, crying their release into each other's mouths to muffle their sounds. When it is all over Steven lays his head on Loki's chest and Loki holds him as he falls asleep. Something fundamental has changed, he knows it as he watches the candlelight dance. Something has shifted inside him, though he can't name why or how. He looks down at Steven's peaceful face, feels his heart beat, hears his soft breath and knows that he will devote his time on Midgard to protecting this man. The life of a mortal is so brief, so very brief, but he will make Steven's as long and as fruitful as possible.

"What is it about you?" He asks quietly, but Steven sleeps on.

At least it is the middle of a war. If he is going to devote his time and energies to a Midgardian, at least he will have the opportunity for some fun. He smiles and presses a kiss to Steven's forehead before allowing himself to close his eyes and, for the first time in the presence of someone outside of his family, sleep.


	6. Everything Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The war comes to an end for Loki and Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All previous disclaimers apply.
> 
> Sorry for the delay. Please let me know what you think if you have a moment. If it seems a little disjointed it was intentional, but I'm not sure how well it came across. Thanks so much!

"You're somewhere far away," Steve whispers as they lay together in the dying light of a single candle, "Where are you?"

Loki stops tracing idle patterns on Steven's strong chest at the words and contemplates for a moment before he answers. In the short seven months he has been at Steven's side there have not been nearly enough of these quiet moments when they can simply be together. In fact, Loki can count them on just one hand. Since that first night when he and Steven laid together and consummated what Loki now has no doubt is love, they have constantly been near each other, but Loki can only sigh at how limited their actual contact has been. It is a strange, unenlightened place he has found himself, that he cannot simply touch, kiss, or hold the man he loves at his leisure, but he understands why he cannot, why they cannot. The Midgardians are a young race and they have not yet come to the realizations that Asgard has. They will. He has seen it over and over again in individuals. They will someday realize their skin colors, their many religions, their sexual preferences are not reasons to keep them apart, but rather different points of view to be celebrated. But, it does not make his time here any easier. There have been many times, after a mission gone wrong, after a particularly difficult raid where they find more corpses than live bodies, that Loki wants nothing more than take Steven in his arms, stroke his hair and allow them both to find comfort in each others bodies. But, he cannot. He will not force Steven to choose between his love for Loki and the work that is so important to him, even if he would take Steven to Asgard in a second and present him before his parents as his chosen mate in a heartbeat if Steven gave him even a moments belief that he would be happier there. He is learning to deal with the difficulty though, the difficulty of being able to offer Steven less public comfort than even his best friend, Sergeant Barnes, is allowed to.

It is why he risked ruining it all, knowing that Steven might reject him, to save Barnes' life earlier that day. The train was supposed to be easy. Too easy. They all should have seen the trap coming. Schmidt is getting desperate to take Steven down, they all know it. It is better, of course, that he focus his efforts on Captain America so that he doesn't see what the others on the same team are doing, their own strengths, but it doesn't make it any easier to let Steven be the target. Every battle they fight is a trial in split focus for Loki, keeping one eye on his own battle and one eye on Steven's. He'd almost missed the explosion that tore the side of the train car off, almost missed pushing Barnes out of the way and being forced out the door by the concussive impact of the last attack. It was only his desperation not to be gone from Steven's life that had him using magic to force his body back onto the mangled metal. He would have survived the fall, of course, but Steven wouldn't have known that and it all would have been over. He is fairly certain that Barnes had seen the magic that surrounded him like a green smoke, but so far he has said nothing. He nodded in understanding when Steven had pulled Loki back in and held him tightly as they both crouched on the floor of the train. Loki hadn't expected the kiss, but he'd been so grateful to be with Steven still he'd accepted the delicious, hard, life-affirming kiss that Steven gave him right in front of Barnes. And Barnes only gave that little smirk that always irks Loki so. Loki is going to have to rethink his position of disliking the man.

"Loki?" Steve asks again.

"Hmm?" Loki murmurs, then takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry, Steven. What did you say?"

"I was just wondering where you were," Steven says gently, tilting Loki's face up so that he can fit their mouths in a tender kiss.

"Mmm," Loki moans into the kiss, "I was just thinking about home, I suppose."

"You never talk about your home," Steven says.

"I actually had a…message from my father a few days ago," Loki says contemplatively, "He wants me to return home."

The message actually came via Thor, in the middle of the night while a battle raged around them. They had their fun as they fought, but Thor was serious when he told Loki that their father wants him home. Nearly a year spent on Midgard, while not as long as some holidays the royal family takes, seems excessive to their father. What can possibly be keeping Loki's attention? His mother misses him and his grandmother is becoming overbearing. It makes Loki smile to think of his strong father, so cowed by the strong women in his life. Not that Loki can blame him. Frigga and N'Daia are formidable and he will never wish to be on the side against them. But, he cannot leave Steven. Just the idea of it is so abhorrent that he feels ill every time the thought crosses his mind. It is like an ache in his chest that he has never felt before. Thor will put off their father a little longer at Loki's request. It is hard to resist Thor when he gives the looks he'd given Loki, all wide, guileless eyes and turned down mouth, but Loki will resist as much of his brother's attempted guilt as he must to remain by Steven's side.

"I am…something of a noble in my homeland. My father is…highly respected. My parents and my grandmother do not think that I should be here in the middle of a war that I should not have involved myself in at all to begin with."

"The whole world's at war," Steven says gently, cupping Loki's bare hip in his large hand and rubbing gently, "Surely they understand you wanting to help."

"My home has always been…isolated…and they feel as if we should not involve ourselves in the affairs of mor…those beyond its borders."

"You don't say half of what you mean, Loki," Steven whispers against his forehead, and Loki tenses. What if Steven has decided that he is no longer worth his hidden truths? "Maybe some day you'll tell me your secrets."

"Steven…"

"Loki," Steven cups his face and tilts his chin so that they can meet each other's eyes, "I'm not trying to make you tell me anything at all. I love you. With all of your secrets, all of your mystery I love you. And I don't want you any other way. I just hope that one day you'll trust me enough to give me all of you."

"I trust you with as much of me as I can, Steven," Loki whispers, spreading his body over Steven's, "I trust you with my life."

"And I trust you with mine," Steven smiles that smile that always causes the muscles in Loki's stomach to clench. He kisses Steven then with everything he has, everything he is, and they make love. It is all soft sighs and reverent touches. Their fingers link above Steven's head as Loki moves his hips and takes Steven inside of him. Nothing is hurried. Nothing is frantic. Their words are whispers of adoration and devotion and as they move together Steven kisses their linked hands and presses his free hand to Loki's chest, just above his heart.

"Steven," Loki gasps.

"I love you," Steven responds, "Forever, Loki. I love you."

"I love you," Loki sobs, "For all eternity, my darling."

He pushes hair away from Steven's beautiful eyes and takes in a gasping breath as they fall over the edge of pleasure together. Afterwards as they lay together in the cool darkness, they speak for hours. Steven speaks of the dreams he has for them after the war. As much as he loves Brooklyn he knows they will never be safe there. He speaks of a farm upstate where they are far enough away from others that they never think to questions two young bachelors living together for so long. He does not mention the fact that the government that considers him their belonging will never let him go. Loki does not mention it either. Steven's dreams are beautiful and Loki finds himself wrapped up in them. A simple life, helping things grow, crops and children. It is not a life that would satisfy either of them, he knows, but it is a dream that gives him peace.

Steven falls asleep first and Loki weaves a simple spell around them both so that they may share their dreams. As they sleep they have their farm, not in Midgard, but in Asgard. The dreamscape makes Steven comfortable with the change in atmosphere and their life is as beautiful as they spoke it. They enjoy the work. Loki uses his magic freely to help things grow and they see their children. A boy first with Steven's beautiful eyes and golden coloring, but Loki's dark hair and ability for magic. Then a girl, still with Steven's eyes. All of their children have his eyes, but their daughter also gets the golden blonde hair. It is stunning with Loki's pale coloring. Then their youngest, another boy, almost an exact replica of Steven himself. They are a family and they are happy. So very happy.

In the morning, as they prepare themselves in the pre-dawn light for the assault on Schmidt's mountain fortress they are both calm, centered, and at peace. They kiss a final time before they join the others, once again the consummate professionals they've been in front of every other living soul the entire time they've known each other.

"Please be safe, my darling," Loki whispers as they begin their attack. And Steven smiles at him.

The battle is something he remembers in brief flashes, like one of the films Steve is so fond of that has come off of its reels. He comes to the realization that the weapons are the result of he Tesseract. He's suspected before, of course, but it is finally confirmed when he sees the gigantic ship that The Red Skull has built. Only Asgardian technology can create such a thing. He and Steve very nearly don't make it onto the plane as it takes off and as they fight the ridiculous weapons that Zola managed to create Loki is forced to use his powers. And he and Steven fight as if Steven has always known. Loki reflects his powers off of Steven's shield and Steven throws it at him as if he has always known that Loki has the strength to catch it. Steven's bright, mad war smile is reflected by Loki's right until the moment that they reach The Red Skull's cockpit. The man's absolute madness makes him a formidable foe. Loki sheds his mortal costuming in favor of his Asgardian armor.

And it is when he is focused on protecting Steve and taking the Tesseract from the Skull that a nearly dead Hydra agent fires at him from behind. The ammunition powered from the Tesseract does not immediately destroy him as it does the humans. But, he has never known such pain as it tears through his chest, setting his lungs on fire and stopping his breath at the agony. He hears Steven cry out in grief, watches through hazy eyes as the Tesseract makes quick work of Schmidt.

"Loki," Steven takes him in his arms, "Loki, no. Stay with me."

"The weapons will destroy a city, Steven," Loki forces as he attempts to breathe. Something becoming more and more difficult, "Many will die."

"No," Steven's voice is grim, "Just us. Together."

"Together," Loki smiles a bloody smile.

Steven carries him to the pilot's chair, holds him close and kisses him through the blood. Their linked hands force the plane down and they do nothing but gaze into each other's eyes as it goes down. Just before they hit the ice Loki closes his eyes and lays his head on Steven's strong chest, listening to his heart beat.

And then he knows no more.


	7. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All previous disclaimers apply.

"Heimdal!" Thor chokes around the sea water attempting to make its way into his lungs as he struggles against the freezing water trying to still his limbs, his heavy armor and cape trying to force him under, and the weight of his brother limp against his shoulder, "Heimdal, open the Bi-Frost!"

The familiar weightless feeling is the greatest relief of all his days as he holds tight to Loki with both arms. His brother is so pale, so lifeless, that Thor would swear there was no hope if he could not feel the sluggish heartbeat, growing slower every moment. Unless they get to the healing rooms and their mother's magic quickly his brother will be lost. And even if they manage to heal his body and save his life Thor is not entirely certain that he will not be lost to them. Loki has had many bed partners, many loves, but Thor has never seen him the way he was with the mortal captain. Thor regrets that he could not pull the good captain up, but it was all he could do to get Loki above the water without drowning them both and the mortal man had already been encased in some sort of ice cocoon. Thor hadn't been able to break it before the need to breathe and the panic to save his brother's life overtook him.

He cannot feel guilty for it as he calls Mjolnir to him as soon as he reaches the Bi-Frost room and is flying toward the palace with his ashen brother in his arms as fast as he possibly can. He causes quite a stir among the court as he bursts into the hall calling for his mother and healers.

"Oh my darling boy!" His mother gasps as she sees Loki for the first time. Thor watches the change come over her as she goes from mother to healer in an instant, calling magic to her to massage Loki's failing heart in his chest to keep it beating as the other healers continue to work around her.

She demands that someone be sent to fetch Queen N'Daia, but Thor cannot move. He can only keep his eyes on his brother's pale lifeless face. He does not know if it is minutes or hours before his father places a hand on his shoulder and they stand vigil together. Queen N'Daia comes in as the healers work and throws her magic in with Frigga's, both of them using all they have to save the one they love so much.

Thor feels his knees go weak when finally Frigga turns to them both and nods, a small smile on her face. He falls to the floor sobbing and is unsurprised and grateful when his mother joins him and holds him in her arms.

"From this day forward," Odin says quietly, moving toward the son he nearly almost lost, sitting on the edge of healing bed and taking one of Loki's limp hands to press a kiss to the back of it, "Midgard is closed to us. I will not chance the loss of one of my sons to their barbarism again."

Thor watches his brother breathing, so slowly, and nods his head in agreement.


	8. Heimdal Watches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heimdal watches his responsibilities and his prince.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply.
> 
> Sorry about the delay. No excuse but my own crazy life. And feedback, good or bad, is much appreciated. Thanks!

"Is there anything, Heimdal, anything at all?"

Heimdal's face betrays no surprise as the second son of Asgard is absent from his side one moment and suddenly at his elbow the next. Loki has not been working his many magics nearly as often since his wounding at the hands of Midgardians, fighting yet another of the wars that ravages their planet and kills so much of their population for no good reason that Heimdal can discern. He has seen it happen again and again. The mortals take offense at something one of their brothers has done and their entire planet suffers for the arrogance of a few men who cannot let go of their dreams of grandeur and ruling all those around them. There is no power hierarchy as there is among the Aesir and sometimes Heimdal envies them that. He sees all and he sees the power imbalances and wrongs that happen in the Allfather's realm even as they are not intentional. But, despite the wrongs on Asgard they are nothing compared to the atrocities that mortals commit against each other. A power hierarchy would allow them some semblance of order, allow those who would cause such death and destruction to be put down before reaching power, as long as those who held the power were true. But then again mortal lives were so short none of them could ever see far enough to become completely incorruptible. It is something he often ponders on as he turns his eye to them, and he has never come up with a solution, aside from taking them over like the naughty children they sometimes pretend to be. But, it would be a hundred years and millions of lives before they would accept Aesir rule and that leaves him back at the beginning of his circular thoughts once again.

Though he must admit that they are evolving into the kind of race that Heimdal knows will someday be on par with the Aesir in their technology as well as their humanity. And every so often for a brief moment he sees a prime example of what they will become. Selfless, self-sacrificing, a beacon of golden hope and goodness, a leader who leads by example and not by force, the kind of man or woman who would be an ideal top tier in a power hierarchy. Loki's captain was such a man. Even as Loki had kept himself and his actions on Midgard as hidden as he possibly could, as well as those of his companions, there were times when he could not cover them all and Heimdal had seen through all of the glamours Loki had placed to the man his prince had fallen in love with. A young man, an exceptional man. Heimdal cannot fault his prince for falling as deeply in love as he did. And he will never regret for the love that they shared. His prince, his favored if he is honest with himself, as he always is, was never going to find that kind of love on Asgard. But he regrets the pain his prince is in now.

Loki cannot accept that his Captain is gone. He has not been healing as swiftly as Asgardian medicine usually affords and he is very weak, both in body and in magic, but he transports himself to Heimdal's side every day just after the healers and his mother have stopped by his room to ascertain his health for themselves. His magical core is nearly depleted and he sleeps for hours when he has left him, yet he does it every single day. Today, just like every day Heimdal looses one hand from his broadsword and supports his prince with an arm around his waist that neither of them ever discuss. Just as they don't discuss the way Loki leans on him, almost laying his head against Heimdal's shoulder.

"There has been an ending to the war on the continent on which you fought," Heimdal says quietly, "The Commandos celebrate even now. They are quiet. The sergeant has said a quiet prayer and now they all drink. They drink to the memory of the good captain. And to you, my prince. For while the actions of yourself and Steven Rogers have been deemed something known as "classified," a secret, if you will, they know who it was who has stopped the true threat to the planet."

"And how fares the sergeant?"

"He grieves and spends much time lost in drink, but the Lady Carter and he are spending more time together. He reacts well to her nurturing. He will heal."

"And Mr. Stark?"

"As ever, he searches for you both. He came close to The Tesseract before your father had it retrieved. He has not given up on finding you both and seeing you recognized."

"And still no sign of the wreckage?"

"No, my prince. Without you onboard, the Tesseract enhanced aircraft is lost from my sight."

"Please notify me right away if anything changes, Heimdal. I would like to put Steven to a proper rest."

"Of course, my prince."

Hearing of the end of the war that stole his lover seems to be too much for Loki's fragile state and Heimdal says nothing as his prince presses his faced to Heimdal's neck and weeps gently for all that he has lost, the first time Heimdal believes he has. He moves them quietly, without a word, so that they may sit in relative comfort, and takes Loki onto his lap as if he were a small child. He has known this boy since Odin brought him from Joutnheim, nearly dead and still small enough to be swaddled in furs. He had just begun his tenure as Odin's eye and gatekeeper and had the same prejudices as all other Aesir. But, as he'd watched his gentle, clever prince grow, as he'd wached the Jotunar in their liberation from Laufey and come to understand their people, he'd come to love them, come to love the prince. He has always felt a kinship with the quiet, studious boy who became a clever, confident man. Loki feels it as well, Heimdal knows. He often studied in this very chamber as a boy and his quiet company has always been soothing to Heimdal. He will do what he can to soothe his prince now. Heimdal holds Loki gently as he weeps himself dry and holds him still when his body becomes heavy with sleep in his arms. Good, he thinks as he holds his posture and keeps his arms around his prince, Loki needs to sleep more. He is not allowing himself to rest properly to heal.

"Oh, my love," Queen Frigga moves as silently as her youngest and only not wanting to wake Loki keeps Heimdal from jumping. He looks at his queen sadly as she brushes Loki's long hair away from his eyes, "I am grateful, gatekeeper, that he felt comfortable enough to unburden himself to you. He has not done so with any of us."

"It is my honor to be of service to the royal family in any way I can, my queen."

"Heimdal, I know it is not only loyalty to the royal family," Frigga's smile is gentle and all knowing, "It has never been only loyalty."

"As you say, my queen," Heimdal nods without looking at her. Frigge sits next to them and it is many long minutes, how many neither can say, before they speak again. Heimdal rocks slightly without realizing he is doing so as Frigga strokes Loki's hair and whispers small prayers for healing and small enchantments to fortify her son's weakened body. She does not know why he is not healing as he should. She has seen Aesir and Jotunar heal from the same kinds of wounds she found on her son with no ill effects. Aesir technology is strong and her magic, combined with N'Daia's is stronger. By all accounts he should be recovered, and yet he continues to wax ill. She has spoken with N'Daia of his listing and the other queen has taken leave to research his condition in the great library of Jotunheim. Frigga knows she knows something, she'd seen it in her eyes, but it was only responsible of N'Daia to research before she gives a definitive answer. It will all come in due time, no matter how much Frigga wishes for the information now. She sighs and runs a delicate finger over Loki's brow, wishing she could smooth the hard line there.

"Loki needs to be away now, to give his mind something other than his loss to focus upon. I have asked Hogun to give him distraction, perhaps help to lighten his heart, in Vanaheim. As much as I wish it weren't so, sometimes a mother's love cannot heal all of woes of her child's heart. Would that I could take all of the pain away."

"But, were you to take the pain, mother love, you would have to take all memories of Steven in every way, including the joys," Loki sits up from his position in Heimdal's arms, proving to them both that he was not sleeping, merely dozing with his exhaustion, "And that I would never wish. My heart could not take this pain without the joy to temper it. But, a distraction would be most welcome."

"Of course, my darling. Come with me now and we will prepare you for your journey."

"Yes, Mother," Loki takes his feet slowly and when he turns back to Heimdal there is a small, but genuine smile on his face that brings a reflecting smile to Heimdal's face, "Thank you, my friend."

He bows his head briefly in appreciation of the thanks and watches as his queen and prince leave to begin their slow walk back to the palace, arm in arm. He briefly says his own small prayer for the healing of his prince's body and heart before his turns his all-seeing eyes back to Midgard where he sees the Sergeant and the Lady Carter share a first tentative, tear-filled kiss, the Commandos being welcomed home by their families with open arms, and Howard Stark searching, ever searching. In turn he too searches for the good Captain, unsurprised and yet still disappointed when he sees nothing.

But that does not mean he will stop.


	9. Interlude 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply.
> 
> Well, inspiration struck in a short time in the form of two short chapters. I hope you enjoy them. I know what is happening from here and I'm hoping that I can get the story finished before too much longer. Thank you, everyone, for sticking with this and anything you do that tells me you like it. I really appreciate it.

"He is so very altered," Frigga sighs softly as she and N'Daia view Loki without his notice. He sits in the Queen's Gardens surrounded by the roses Frigga has favored and nurtured for thousands of years. He is often to be found just there, no matter the season, these past years. In the summer he sits beneath one of the trees in his Aesir form and reads quietly to himself, no longer just the spell scrolls and ancient historical writings he favored as a boy, but now also epic poetry, philosophy, writings on the sciences. In the winter he allows himself to sit in his Jotunar form, most of his time spent in meditation, but every so often giving into a new urge to put ink to paper. He has allowed Frigga to see the fruits of his labors, trying to capture his mortal lover on paper as he sees him in his mind. He is never satisfied with the work, but Frigga sees the love for Steven in every line and sees the goodness and strength in the man her son loved in the way Loki has drawn him, such kind, loving eyes, such handsome features, such a good soul captured on paper and Frigga mourns his loss just as assuredly as Loki does and has for over half a century now.

"You know that he will never been the same, Frigga," N'Daia sighs in return, "We both know that."

The Jotun queen sets her hand over Frigga's where it rests on the balcony railing in an offer of comfort. It has been many years since they realized what happened on Midgard to change Loki so. It is something unheard of to the Aesir and Vanir and the most rare of occurrences in the Jotunar. Loki and his Midgardian captain had formed a soul bond, two souls so perfect for each other that they recognized each other from the moment the first met. Frigga understands now why Loki would not heed them and come home when he was summoned. He could no more have left Steven in danger than he would have left his family. His heart would have cried out against it with everything in him. The soul bond is something so rare that not much research has been able to be done on it. There are only two things all of the ancient Jotun texts agree upon. The first is that too much distance, too much time away from each other will kill the bonded, and the death of one will result in the death of the other. Frigga is grateful that these writings seem to have made incorrect assumptions as her Loki is still with her, no matter how altered by the loss of his bonded.

He is quiet now. There is always a level of grief behind his eyes that never clears, even as he laughs and smiles with his friends and family. Of course the smiles do not reach his eyes anymore. It took many, many years, but his body has finally healed though he has never regained the strength he once had. His magic has never fully recovered either. He can work his spells and conjurings again but most of the time chooses not to as they tend to leave him weak for days afterward. But, what scares her the most now is how he seems to only by partially alive. Of course she can see him, she can touch him, but sometimes when she looks at him it is like she can almost see through him, like he is one part here on Asgard with them and the other part of him has already moved onto Valhalla where his soul can be at rest. It is as if any moment he could simply fade from her sight and be lost to them all forever. And it seems that he has made peace with this. The peace with his death she sees in his eyes, whether it comes in years or hours terrifies her beyond words.

"I do know," Frigga uses her free hand to wipe a tear away from her face almost angrily, "I just wish…I feel so helpless to aid him in any way, N'Daia. He is my son and he is in such pain and I cannot take it away. It…it does not sit well with me."

"It will never sit well for a mother to be unable to help her child," N'Daia gathers Frigga into her arms like she were her mother and strokes her golden hair as she weeps softly, "I still mourn that I could not help my Kytlai. We can only be grateful, love, that he is still with us and try to help heal his heart in some small way."

The only good that has come out of all of this sadness is the closeness now felt between the royal families of Asgard and Jotunheim. Thor, who has never known large or extended family has spent as much time on Jotunheim with Loki as he has on Asgard these past years, being surrounded by N'Daia, her husband, and their many surviving children, who have all treated Thor as a much loved nephew just as they have always treated Loki. He has also been learning from N'Daia herself, about ruling a people very much divided in their thinking. After all, the realms themselves do not always agree and one thing none of them want is another war between races, especially now that Heimdal tells them even Midgard may be ready sooner rather than later to know of the existence of the other realms. But, of course that is not the extent of their collaborations and closeness. N'Daia's heir, her oldest grandchild, Hunau, has been fostered with them for years, learning as much about ruling fairly and justly as Odin and Frigga can teach. Odin has also become a great favorite of N'Daia's youngest grandchildren when they visit. They call him what roughly translates to "great grey bear." As Odin does not have grandchildren of his own yet it delights him to no end to play on the floor with them as he once did with his sons. Some of the Jotuns come to Asgard now to learn more than just survival. As for N'Daia and Frigga, they have become as close as mother and daughter. As Frigga lost her mother at a young age and N'Daia's daughter was taken from her it is a good match for them both.

N'Daia wipes Frigga's tears away with a sad smile as they turn back to the one they both love so. They cannot help but giggle as Thor bounds into the garden like an overgrown puppy, bouncing almost like one in his effort to get Loki to come to their training grounds with him. It is obvious to the two women that Loki is going to go along with his brother's request in the set of his body, the small smile playing at the corners of his mouth, but Thor does not see it. He is obviously becoming frustrated with his brother's refusal by the time Loki gives in and stands with a laugh. Thor throws his arm around Loki and the two disappear from the Queens' sight. Frigga sighs and allows herself to be drawn back into N'Daia's embrace. Something in her is telling her that something is not right, that she is right to worry for her youngest, but right now she can only take the comfort that is offered. And so she turns her face into N'Daia's neck and allows herself to take it.


	10. Hogun Worries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogun's worst fears come to pass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply.
> 
> 2 of 2 for one day. I'm kind of proud of myself. I know where this is going and much of it I've already written at this point so hopefully I'll be getting chapters out a little faster. Thanks so much for reading!

Hogun frowns as he surveys the training grounds before him. It has been quite some time since the Allfather named Hogun the leader of Asgard's forces and placed him in charge of training the combined forces of Asgard and those from Jotenheim and Vanaheim who come to learn different styles and higher forms, but it feels as if he will never get used to it. It feels like such a different life when he thinks of where he came from. He is the youngest son in a family of Vanir intellectuals, considered strange due to his tendency not to speak for days if he didn't see the need and his single-minded focus on training and improving himself. Unlike Asgard, magical and studious pursuits were always much more rewarded in the village in which he grew. Training the body, learning weapons work, they were not frowned upon, but they were seen as something to be done in the time between serious studies and intellectual pursuits. The fact that he dreamt of being a warrior, that he wanted nothing more than to improve himself in the art of war, made him something of an outcast with the other children. His parents are good, honest people, but they had no idea what to do with such a child. His mother, friends from birth with the woman who became the Queen of Asgard , finally asked if perhaps there might be a family to foster her youngest as he wasn't fulfilled living with his more intellectually minded family.

The first day he arrived in Asgard he was overwhelmed by the city. So many people, so much noise. Frigga herself took him on, introduced him to those who would be training him, the showed him to a set of rooms as large as his family's home. The bright golden colors, the incredible vastness of the rooms, the servants who were told he was their charge, it was all too much for him. As soon as he had given thanks to Frigga and dismissed the servants he'd put all of his things back in his travelling sack and run, intent upon making it back to the Bi-Frost and being sent back home. But, his sense of direction was not exactly honed in those days and he'd only managed to get himself incredibly lost. He finally managed to make it to the library where he found seated and studying as old tome, the younger prince of Asgard, just his own age and as quiet as he was.

From the moment he met Loki the second prince seemed to understand him. Loki saw his discomfort with his new surroundings without him having to say a word. He sat across from Loki a the large table in the biggest library he'd ever seen and simply let himself breathe for nearly an hour, taking in how much Loki reminded him of his own brothers and sisters and thought that maybe he could learn to get along here as long as there was someone in his life who had the same focus of his family. At the end of that first hour Loki had dropped a scroll in front of him. For a moment he'd despaired until he unrolled it to find it was a tome of tactics from an Asgardian general he'd never heard of, but found absolutely fascinating. Later that day Loki took him to the practice ring and suggested quietly that he pair with Fandral if he wanted a real challenge and to show the trainers all that he could do, as Fandral was the best swordsman Asgard had to offer. Fandral was truly a worthy opponent but he also kept his eye half on the swooning girls at the edge of the arena, rather than fully on the battle at hand. But he also surprised Hogun when he merely laughed and congratulated him on a good spar when he was beaten. The trainer immediately approached after their fight to tell him that he would be training one on one with the best of the Asgardian warriors, as he was too advanced to join the classes that he had been given before anyone had seen him fight. Hogun turned with a smile to see Loki standing against the wall of the training arena, his arms crossed and a smirk Hogun would come to know well on his face.

From that day they were the closest of friends and each found that they understood each other as no one ever had. The had the advantage of being raised in the way that the other wished they had been, so Loki understood Hogun's need to continually improve his skills in the art of war and Hogun understood Loki's need to be as strong in his magic and as educated as he could possibly be. They helped each other, supported each other, and encouraged each other to become the best they possibly could be. And when Sif joined them if was as if she'd always been there. Her wild ways were not theirs, but they managed to temper her and she managed something no one else had. She made them laugh until they cried, she gave them occasion to be wild. She was the stereotypical Asgardian warrior in many ways that neither of them could be and yet she adored them both. There was almost never occasion when the three of them were out of each other's company, much like Thor was with Fandral and Volstagg, though there was always a different element to their triad than Thor's. It was Loki who had given Sif and him the idea to take each other's innocence before the pressure from their fellow warriors would cause them to do something they would regret.

They were such close friends, it ended up being the most fun summer in his memory as they laughed their way through their first time, then spent the next days and weeks learned from each other how best to please the opposite sex. It was very educational and when he was ready to begin a serious courtship with an Asgardian merchant's daughter Sif had let him go with a happy kiss and length of silk she'd bought years before with the intention of giving it to Hogun to give to the woman he intended to court for marriage. She'd done the same, he knew, for Loki, having bought him a dagger to give to the man he intended to marry. She really was much more tenderhearted than she let on to anyone but Loki and himself. He hopes that someday she will catch Thor's eye as he caught hers so many years ago. She is an incredible warrior, one of the best in the realm, and an even better friend. She would make a stunning queen in every way. He knows that Loki agrees with him.

Loki…he turns his thoughts back to his greatest friend and the reason for his frown today. Something is wrong. He can feel it low in his gut and see it in the way his friend it moving. On any given day, even after his wounding and subsequent healing, Loki is one of the swiftest warriors of the realm. He is deadly and almost terrifyingly accurate with his daggers when he chooses to be, but today he has yet to land a blow in his sparring match with Fandral. He is moving so slowly, as if he were testing new forms and moving at half speed purposefully. But, he is not. They all know that. He can see the concern on Fandral's face, the way he is pulling his blows, and the way he catches Loki when he stumbles rather than pressing his advantage and winning the match. He looks to Hogun when Loki does not immediately straighten.

"Hold!" Hogun calls, and all of the matches in the arena come to a halt in a breath, just as they should. Hogun vaults effortlessly over the wall and shoots a look to Volstagg who understands immediately and takes his leave to fetch Thor, who left the training grounds just moments before.

"Loki," Hogun steps up to his friend, still leaning on Fandral's shoulder, and sets a hand to his back. Loki starts as if he has been burned and jerks out of Fandral's reach, only to overcompensate and almost fall back. Hogun catches him by his elbow and cups his face in one hand, trying to see into his eyes.

"Hogun," Loki murmurs as he blinks like he cannot focus his eyes. Hogun curses lightly when he feels the fever burning through his practice gloves and sees the glazed over look in Loki's eyes.

"Loki, try to focus on me, my friend," Hogun murmurs, "Can you tell me if you are injured?"

"Hogun," Loki repeats quietly, then looks up at him. Hogun just barely manages to catch his cry of dismay in his throat as Loki's eyes roll back in his head and his knees give. Hogun and Fandral catch him and lower him to the ground slowly.

"Loki," Hogun shakes his friend gently and feels his heart fall as he does not respond. He looks up at Fandral and sees the fear in his eyes that he knows is reflecting in his own. The worst fear any of them have had, the worst fear of the royal family since Thor brought Loki back barely alive and he has been so very weakened since his recovery, is that they are going to lose their prince. Hogun sends up a prayer for mercy to whatever higher power may be listening and presses a kiss to Loki's burning forehead, "Not like this, my friend," he says quietly, tears burning in his eyes.

"Please…not like this."


	11. Odin Accepts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odin finally allows himself to come to some realization and acceptance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply.
> 
> Gotta admit, this is a sad one and I wrote it while I was really emotional so it may not all be as clear as I'd like. Please let me know what you think if you have a moment. We're nearing the end.

"Father," Loki says quietly, looking up from the book laid on his lap that he isn't really reading. He hasn't turned a single page in the entire time Odin has been in his doorway, observing him with a heaviness he has never felt in the whole of his long life in his heart.

When Gaia died he was devastated and fully believed that he would never love another the way he'd loved her. But, there was always Thor to live for, then he'd met Frigga and she'd been everything he'd never known he wanted. Gaia was sweet, giving, raised for a life as a queen and Odin's betrothed since birth. They'd always known they were to be married and had both accepted it. Perhaps it wasn't the most passionate of love affairs, but they had loved each other just the same. Frigga was like a bolt of lightning out of the blue. A shield maiden of Vanaheim who did not allow him to seduce her in any way until he'd proved in more than one trial that he saw her as an equal. She was not raised to royalty and was exactly what the royal house, and Odin, needed. She brought life back to the palace and light to things that they'd all accepted for years without thinking. It was one of the reasons the court took so long in accepting her. She was unashamedly herself and would not bow to their will. But, even the strongest of souls will eventually break under such intense scrutiny over so many years. He'd thought he was going to lose her to her depression no matter how much he and Thor loved her. She'd needed something of her own to focus on. The listing babe he'd brought back from Jotunheim had been someone other than herself she was able to turn her attentions to. He'd needed her in a way that Odin and Thor never could. Even if he hadn't fallen in love with the child the moment he'd seen him he would have loved him for that.

And now…one of his three reasons for living and, he is certain, the one who saved his beloved wife from herself and her black moods, lies abed, pale and ill once again and this time there is nothing that he can do to fix it, to heal his Loki. He has tried everything he can think of these past weeks, used all of the magic he is able to summon as the Allfather, but nothing he does has much effect for long. It is the same with all of the charms and spells that Frigga and N'Daia, and all of the strongest and most creative magicians they have sought out, have worked upon him. They seem to improve his health for a small time, Loki has more color, seems easier in his body. But it is only a matter of days before he is left pale and trembling again and takes to his bed. But, it is not only that he improves only for a short time. With every attempt at healing, every few days that he almost seems himself again, the comedown from the time of good health is worse. At first he was simply tired, a little feverish. Now…now his breathing is beginning to struggle, he is living in a constant state of fever and short journeys from the bed leave him so exhausted he will sleep for hours once someone has helped him back.

Odin feels his illness as a sharp pain in his heart. They all know, have known, that Loki has been living on borrowed time since the death of bonded mate. During the years that Loki's body recovered from his grievous wounds Frigga and N'Daia spent countless weeks researching in the Jotun libraries for any information on the bond that they could find. Thor and himself did the same in the Asgardian libraries, but the bond does not exist for the Aesir, of that Odin in certain. And all information from Jotunheim states that he should have lost his Loki sixty-six years prior with the death of the Midgardian who had taken his heart. And yet, with every year that passed Odin has allowed himself to grow confident that a bond with a Midgardian could not be so strong as to take his son, one of the strongest men he has ever known in the whole of his long life. He has allowed himself to be blinded to how much Loki missed the mortal, how…frail he'd become over the years. One foot already in Valhalla, as Frigga stated to him once. Odin knows that he is not the easiest man. His stubborn nature has caused at least one war and too many fights with his court and his family to count. He knows he is not perfect, but never before has his pure, stubborn pride, allowed him to be so blind. And now he has not prepared himself for Loki's death in any way.

He takes in a sharp breath as the realization truly makes itself known to him for the first time. It is a struggle to remain upright and he puts his hands to suddenly weak knees in an effort to keep himself on his feet as the grief washes over him like a tidal wave. He feels his eye wet and takes in another gasping breath, feeling as if something is crushing his chest.

"Father," Loki says quietly, sounding much older and wiser than Odin feels.

Odin looks up at him through a watery haze. Loki has closed the book and set it at his knee and is now looking at Odin with a small smile on his face and his hand outstretched. Odin stumbles to the bed and falls to his knees, taking Loki's hand in both of his own and pressing it to his forehead as he braces his elbows on the mattress. He chokes a sob back into his chest, but cannot stop the next words.

"You are…you are dying."

"Yes, Father, I am."

Odin's head snaps up at the gentle words and he is almost angry at the still gentle smile on Loki's face. He stands. The anger is easier to feel than the overwhelming grief and he allows it to take control of him for a moment.

"I command you to fight, Loki Odinson. I do not accept your death as you seem to have accepted it. You will not be selfish, boy, and hurt the realms this way. You will live."

Loki's gentle and gracious smile never falls. He simply reaches out for Odin's hand again and lays his head back on the pillow as if he has not the strength to look his father in the eye without the support.

"Father, I have been fighting for half a century," Loki reminds him quietly, "I am sorry that you feel it selfish of me." He laughs softly, "It is selfish of me, I must admit that. It is a strange thing, Father," Loki murmurs through his tears, "I do not want to die, to leave those I love, but I can no longer live without him. I…Father, I simply don't have the strength or the energy any longer to keep fighting. I thought perhaps time…but I still feel his death as keenly as if he was lost to the ice only moments ago. It has never improved. It is still like a dagger in my mind and heart. Sometimes so much so that it hurts to continue breathing. He is never away from my mind, not even for a moment. Please, Father…please do not order me not to allow myself to go to him now. You are my father and I will try my hardest to obey, to be a good son to you…"

"Loki, you are many things," He says to his son quickly, the anger burning out as swiftly as it came, "But, no one could call you a good son."

"Father…" For the first time there is true hurt in Loki's eyes. Odin hastens to sit on the bed and take his youngest child in his arms.

"Not merely a good son," he corrects, pressing a kiss to Loki's feverish forehead, "You are the finest child a man can ask for. From the moment I saw you I knew that you would grow to be great and you have never disappointed. You are clever and strong, loyal and kind. Only you, my child, only for love of you did two warring races put down their arms and learn to see the good in each other. Only for you did the hate in my heart heal. Only for you did Frigga see past herself to become the queen the realm needed. Only for you did Thor grow into a man I will proud to hand over the throne to. Without you, my son, I despair to think of where we would be now. And losing you, I despair to think of what the future holds for us all. I cannot…I cannot breathe without you, Loki."

"And yet you must," Loki reminds him, allowing himself to take what comfort he can from his father holding him like a babe.

"And yet so must we all," Odin agrees, rocking in his grief. He does not stop the sob that tears itself from his throat, "Please, my son, my Loki…Please stay as long as you are able. There is still so much to say."

"You don't have to say anything, Father," Loki whispers, "I know. If there is one thing I have always known is true it is your love. Even in my shock at discovering my true heritage I never doubted for a single moment that you and Mother and Thor love me. That you are my family and have loved me all my life long."

Odin is surprised to hear the tears in Loki's voice. His youngest is usually so stoic, so clever in his ability to mask his emotions. Odin puts his hand under Loki's chin and tilts his son's face so that he may see his eyes. In Loki's eyes he has ever seen himself as the man that he wants to be, a good man, a great king, but mostly importantly, the best of fathers to his sons. He still sees these things now, knows them to be true to his Loki, but in the great green depths he finally allows himself to see the pain, the grief, the great exhaustion. All of the things that Loki has tried to keep hidden from them all these many years. Odin breathes out a sigh of shock and mourning at all Loki has carried alone. Loki smiles softly through the tears and closes his eyes as if he can no longer keep them open as Odin leans forward, a prayer for a peaceful passing in his heart, and kisses his son's forehead, his cheeks, then his closed eyes. The magic of the AllFather works within him and he can feel the prayer in his heart turn to a blessing that passes onto Loki through each kiss. The moment Loki comes to the realization that his father is seeing him true for the first time in years and will not fight his passing any longer his strong son finally allows himself to break. The sound that issues from him is like a wounded animal as he buries his face in Odin's chest. He sheds his tears and all the aches of his heart for the love he lost, the family he knows he will leave behind, and the life he may once have had, had things been different. He cries for a long while, allowing himself to let all of the burden now rest upon his father, as Odin knows he should have allowed from the first moment. He cries until his voice is ragged and his breathing harsh and finally cries himself into a deep slumber.

The entire time Odin holds him as cries his own tears, taking Loki's grief, mingling it with his own. His Loki will die. There is nothing that will stop that now. But not yet. Not yet. His son is yet strong and he will fight to stay with them as long as he can, Odin knows, if only to spare his family the grief he knows his death will bring them.

"I held you at the beginning of your life, Loki," He whispers as he pulls the light blanket up around his sleeping son's shoulders and tucks his child against him more securely, "I have been here all these long years. I will be here at the ending of all to hold you and see you into the next life. But, for now, my son, sleep. We will have you but a little longer. Your Steven will be waiting to see you home soon enough. Just a little longer, my son. Just a little longer…"


	12. Interlude Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply.
> 
> I debated putting this in or making in a separate one-shot, but in the end I think it fits well. It sets up for the next chapter, I think. Last interlude. One more chapter from Thor and then a couple from Steve, then an epilogue. Thank you so much, everyone for sticking with this and all of the great comments and encouraging likes and kudos. They're very much appreciated.

"Lady Sif!' Thor calls out to the retreating back of one of his brother's greatest friends as she flees from the loud, boastful feast in Thor's honor. Thor himself hates that his parents insisted on having the feast in honor of his birth even as Loki lies worsening in his bed, struggling with fever and to gather enough breath, weaker and weaker every day. He could not even lift his head this afternoon when Thor sat with him at his bedside. As much as he laughs and tries to make light of it all, Thor know that there is nothing now that will prevent his brother from his fate. And despite all of it, Thor understands why his parents insisted upon the feast. The people, the court, need frivolity and celebration even as their hearts are burdened with worry for his brother. When Loki passes…mourning a royal on Asgard in a years long process and Loki is so loved by them all that no one will resent him the full mourning period. Aside from the grief that will pervade them all and cast a grey pall on Asgard and all of her people with his death, there will be no large celebrations, no grand feasts, until Odin declares the mourning period over. As much as he hates that his birth is the cause for this release of energy and frivolity he understands it. But, he also understands how difficult Hogun and Sif, ever Loki's closest friends, are finding it all. Hogun left the celebration soon after it began, no doubt to sit by Loki's bedside. Thor is actually proud of how long Lady Sif was able to hold her decorum and dissatisfaction.

"My lady!"

He finally catches her up and wraps his hand around her deceptively delicate upper arm to slow her pace. As expected she whirls toward him in a swirl of fabric from her formal dress. He is barely fast enough to catch her hand before it punches into his throat. She struggles for a moment against his hold and lets out a frustrated shriek before she glares up at him and see the same grief she is feeling reflected in his eyes. Her beautiful eyes fill with tears, something he has never seen before, and she throws herself against his chest with all her strength. He catches her with barely a step back and does not quite know what to do for a moment. She doesn't sob as he expects but she shakes against him as if on Jotunheim without a fur to cover her. Finally, he wraps his arms around her and sets his chin to her loose, dark hair.

"I cannot bear it," she murmurs after a time, her voice unsteady.

"I know," Thor agrees, "I know."

"I know they have not forgotten that he is so ill, but I cannot bear the celebration as if all is well. It seems so…as if they…"

"I understand," Thor unwraps her from his arms and takes her face between his hands, wiping away the falling tears from her cheeks with his thumbs, "But, we know…we feel it as keenly as ever, aye?"

She nods and looks right into his eyes. No coy glances from under her lashes. Not for a warrior, "I…I miss him. I feel his absence as keenly as if her were already…already gone from our lives."

"I do as well," Thor rumbles. He moves to hold her again when her actions stop him short. She stands on her toes and wraps her arms around his neck, burying both strong hands in his hair and gripping tightly.

"Make me forget," she demands on a hiss, "Just for a time. Stop my mind's racing."

"Gladly," He growls, needing the release and distraction as much as she. He buries one hand in her hair and wraps one roughly around her hip before pushing her into the darkened alcove at their backs. He covers her lean, strong body with his own, pulling her head back roughly by the hair in his hand. Her eyes hold a lustful challenge that sparks the passion low in his belly. She is the most gorgeous creature he has ever seen, has been for the past three hundred years, and while he can never be happy of Loki's current situation he cannot help but be grateful that he finally has excuse and permission to put his hands on Sif as he has longed to do for so long. He puts his mouth to hers and it feels like lightning has struck when she deepens the kiss, seeming as though she will die if she does not. His knees threaten to tremble and he loses all control. Never has a bedmate made him need so much in the course of just one kiss. She gasps against his lips as he moves the hand cradling her hip to tear at the fabric above her corseted waist and take her bared breast in his wide palm when it gives. The kiss becomes a battle as he pulls harder on her hair to force her head back and her chest forward. She moans, deep and husky into his mouth as he first massages her breast then pinches her pebbled nipple between thumb and forefinger perhaps a little harder than he intended when she bites his lip fiercely and his arousal jumps between them.

She breaks the kiss on a loud moan and drags her hands out of his hair to grasp her long, heavy skirt and pull it up to her waist. With one hand she holds it up. With the other, she uses her considerable strength to take hold of his wrist and force his hand away from her breast down lower until it travels under her undergarments. He is momentarily stunned at the wet desire he finds when he covers her mound, but recovers quickly when she grunts in frustration and her hips jerk unsteadily toward him. He has known this woman since they were children, wanted her for more than three centuries, raged when he heard Hogun quietly confirm that they'd taken each other's innocence. But, he has never realized until now that her sexual appetite may very well rival his own. She is no shirking, coy maiden. She wants gratification from him as much as he wants it in her. He will not hurt her by showing her the full extent of his passion for her.

He swallows her scream with a breath-stealing kiss as he plunges two fingers into her with a speed and force he knows many women would not be able to handle. One of her strong hands wraps around the back of his neck and she arches her back as he begins pumping his fingers in and out of her body, curving his fingers to sweep against her most sensitive area with every thrust in. She moans wantonly, moving her hips into the thrusts of his fingers and lets go of her skirt, trusting him to keep doing as he is to bring her over the edge. He groans low in his throat and curves downward to take her nipple in his mouth as her clever hand cups his desire and she rubs roughly. He again fists his hand in her raven tresses as her hand not on his cock doing incredible things to stoke his passion cups his head in a deliciously gentle counterpoint to their animalistic desires to encourage the continuing of his mouth at her breast. He redoubles his efforts with his fingers at her sex, increasing his pace and rubbing harshly at the nub of her desire as she begins to pant. He revels in the little undignified noises she makes on each exhale as she draws near her completion and he tears his mouth away from her breast to swallow her shriek as she falls apart in his arms. His fingers are covered in her juices, her legs shake, and she clutches him to her with all of her strength, kissing him desperately, their tongues continuing their battle. It's only a moment before she's tearing at his breeches with both hands.

"Inside me," She murmurs, "Now, Thor."

"Sif," he moans as she frees his aching cock from its confines. He takes her ample backside in his hands and lifts her off of her feet as she again pulls up the skirt that fell when he removed his fingers from her sex. She holds her skirt with one hand and grasps his shoulder with the other for balance as she hitches her legs around his waist. He pushes her back roughly against the column behind them, almost laughing with the sheer, lustful joy as she gasps at the slight pain, then growls at him and attacks his mouth with her own again. They groan in unison when he drives his aching flesh home into her body. She is tighter, warmer, and wetter than any other he has coupled with. He makes a couple of initial thrusts, trying to control himself.

"By the Norns, Thor," She growls, "I will not break!" Her hands in his hair grip in a tight challenge and yank his head back so that she can attack his neck with teeth and lips. He growls and slams her back against the column harder than previous and begins to rut against her and into her like an animal. He knows he has found exactly what she is looking for in their coupling when she throws her head back and screams and he feels her legs begin to shake as she begins to clench around him. His roar of completion joins her scream as he empties himself in her body so violently his sight goes white for a moment. When he comes back to himself she in panting, her eyes closed and her head resting quietly against the column. He chuckles quietly when a small smile curves her mouth.

"Something we should have done long ago, aye?" He nuzzles her just behind her ear, presses a kiss there, then moves so that she is cradled in his arms, her back no longer against the cool stone, but fully in his embrace. He has never wanted to hold someone after bedding them. Has never felt compelled to keep someone in his arms the way he feels compelled to keep her. He has been attracted to her for so many long years, but this is more than that. Her passion, her strength…he will never be satisfied with another. He knows this to be true with all he has in him. It is not the same thing that Loki has described to him he felt with Steven. It is not the utter certainty that he must be with her, to protect her and love and know that he will die without her. If she tells him now that she is done with him he will survive. It will hurt for a good long while, but it will not be his ending. No, he knows that she is meant to be his the same way his father described to him knowing Frigga was supposed to be his. It is the knowledge that she is his perfect match, that she will be as good for the realms as their queen as she will be for him as his wife. It is what little magic of the Allfather that he is able to access now before he has been named king. She will be his wife, his queen, and the mother of his children. If she will have him.

"Something I have wanted for many years," She agrees sighing as she allows him to hold her, "If I'd but known you'd be receptive to my affections," She opens her eyes slightly and pulls back to place a kiss to his jaw before she settles, comfortable and adorably drowsy against his chest, "I would not have pined so long but forced you into my bed long ago as Loki said I…" She draws in her breath on a pained gasp.

"As Loki said you should," Thor rumbles deep in his chest, "He's said the same to me on more than one occasion."

"He is wiser than both of us." She sniffles and pushes her face into his chest, "Thor…how are we going to…"

"I wish I knew, love."

They are quiet as Thor lets her down out of his arms and they attempt to put their clothing to rights. Thor sweeps his cloak off of his shoulders and around hers when he realizes that he has damaged the top of her gown beyond repair. He laces their fingers together and kisses the back of her hand before leading her to his rooms. She is silent as he lights a fire in the large hearth and builds it up until it is roaring. Then he turns to her and takes her in his arms once more to kiss her slowly, tenderly, as she wraps her arms around his neck and allows his cloak to fall from her shoulders. In the flickering light of the fire he undresses her slowly, kissing her skin as it is bared before him. She turns her back to him and pulls her long hair over her shoulder as he unlaces her corset and it, along with the last scrap of her under-shift, falls to the floor. When she is bare as the day she was born she turns around and does the same for him, placing small kisses to his golden skin as she undresses him. For a long while they just hold each other in front of the fire, taking what comfort they can simply from each other's company. When they have both stopped trembling with their emotions Thor leads her to the large bed. They curl up together, keeping no distance between them, their legs entwined, their arms around each other and her head over his heart.

"Will you stay with me?" He asks.

"For as long as you want me," She responds.

He does not tell her then that he wants her forever. It would be too much, too soon, he knows. She will not believe him so soon and it may cause her to flee from him. That is the last thing that he wants. He will have to do everything he can to show her what he feels for her, how he wants her at his side from now until the end of all things. Instead he holds her close, rumbles a lullaby his mother used to sing to them as children, and strokes her hair until he feels Sif fall asleep. He presses a kiss to her dark hair and, allowing himself to be lulled by her calm, steady breaths, closes his eyes and sleeps.


	13. Thor Decides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply.
> 
> Next chapters we finally get to hear from Steve. I hope you enjoy.

The dream begins as many of his others have lately. He knows it is a dream because Loki is standing before him, whole and healthy again, smiling that smile that used to make young courters swoon…before it was made known by his every action that his heart was no longer his own and though the object of his affections was gone there would never be another. Thor has not seen that smile for over half a century and, for a moment, it makes his heart light. He almost forgets that he is in a dream and opens his eyes to greet his brother with a joyful shout at seeing his good health, but before he can terrible wind sweeps over them both bringing with it ice and snow and Thor lifts his cloak to cover his face against the stinging weather. It is so sudden and so overpowering that for a moment he loses sight of Loki. But, it is only a moment before the wind dies and leaves behind only a gentle falling snow. And with the gentle flakes Thor is able to see his brother again, but he in no longer healthy and smiling. Nay, he lies on the ground, pale and still as death.

Thor shouts a denial and tries to run to his brother, but his feet do not move. He fights with all his might, calls Mjolnir to him, but he cannot move and the hammer does not come as summoned. He screams out the rage and grief against his powerlessness to go to his brother, to protect him. He hasn't been able, he knows, to protect his brother since their ill-fated journey to Midgard, but it does not mean he would not die trying. His struggles are fruitless and he falls to his knees, sobbing and pounding the hard ground until his knuckles bleed.

"Loki?" The voice is not one he recognizes, but he knows it. And he knows the uniform of the man walking toward them, shield in place and eyes wary, constantly scanning for enemies. The star is stark white against the midnight blue and the red as red as blood. And when he removes his helmet his hair is a bright shock of blonde and his eyes blue as the sky as he sees his fallen lover for the first time. He drops the shield without a second thought and falls to his knees next to Loki, gathering him in his arms and screaming out his grief for all to hear. For the first time Thor understands what it means to hear someone's heart cry, for that is the only description he can give for the sound that comes from the good Captain's throat. He rocks Loki slowly back and forth, pressing kisses to his cold face, and begging him to come back.

"Please, Loki. Please, Loki, no. I was coming…was coming back to you. Please, please don't go where I can't follow. Please come back. Come back."

Thor lowers his head, sobbing himself for his own loss and for the Captain's.

"Thor."

His head snaps back up and his eyes meet the Captain's. They are steel and determined.

"Thor, you have to come find me now. Find me now before it's too late. Now, wake up!"

Thor sits up in his bed on a gasp, his heart racing and his head splitting with pain. He groans and sets his head in his hands, his elbows braced on his knees.

"Thor?" Sif tucks the sheet around her chest modestly and sits up, pressing herself to his back and a kiss to his shoulder blade, "What is it? Another nightmare?"

He has been having nightmares often of late, always of Loki's death, most of the time in a very violent manner, but never has the Captain been in one. In truth, Thor has not thought of the man in years, except in passing as the one Loki bonded with, the result of which is Loki dying in his bed. He has gotten so much worse in the past days, his sleeping hours greatly outnumbering the waking ones, his breathing harsh and broken in his chest. He tries to hide the pain from them, tries to smile for them, but he no longer has the strength to fool them as he once could. Just the thought makes Thor feels ill. The only comfort these past weeks has been Sif. She has become his rock, the one he turns to for all things. He cannot remember the last time sunrise found her in her own bed. Even if all they do is hold each other through the night. He wants her no other place and she seems to want the same, so they do not fight it. He knows without her he would be a raging, ridiculous mess now as he tries to accept his brother's death. In many ways he feels like he may finally understand what Loki has felt all these years, missing Steven.

Steven…The dream comes back to him in a sudden understanding and he turns to press a quick hard kiss to Sif's surprised mouth. He sets his forehead to hers with a joyful laugh, then kisses her again. She is looking at him as if he has lost his mind, but he knows that he does not have time to explain to her. He knows now what he must do, but he must have his father's permission before he does. He tears out of the bed and pulls on a pair of sleeping breeches.

"Go back to sleep," He says, a manic smile on his face, "All will be well. I must talk to my father." He leans over and presses one more kiss to her forehead and tears out of the room, calling for his father from the moment he hits the hall.

An hour later he has never wanted to reach out and strike his father more.

"Father, Steven is alive. I know it. We have one chance to save Loki and…"

"Enough, Thor!" Odin roars, "Do you not think that I have tried everything in my power to find your brother's bonded? Even if there were any chance that he survived the ice, he would have died long ago. Mortal lives are so very brief, Thor. And I will not risk another of my son's to Midgard's barbarians! They have advanced in their technology since nearly killing Loki. What would they do to you, coming from another realm? They believe themselves alone in the universe!"

"Father, I know that it doesn't make any sense. I know that the chances of Steven having survived are almost non-existent. I was the one who pulled Loki from the wreckage and nearly drowned myself. But, you must hear me. I met him only in passing, but Steven was no ordinary mortal. He has the strength of an Asgardian. His tactical mind far outstrips all of us. I…Please just a small amount of time to try to find him. I will go in disguise. I will not reveal the other realms to any but Steven. I…"

"Do you not think your mother and I are in enough pain?" Thor flinches back at the words and Odin continues, "Do you not think the Asgardian and Jotun people are not in enough pain? Would you like to see twice as many candles burning on the palace steps, left by mourning Asgardians? Would you leave the realms without an heir and allow them that uncertainty, that disaster?"

"Father, I…"

"Enough!" Odin makes it clear that the conversation is over by sweeping out of the throne room. Thor attempts to follow him, but is stopped by his mother's gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Mother," Thor pleads.

"Please, Thor," The pain on her face silences him, "Please, just stop. Steven is not alive. I have used all of my power to try to find him using the scrap of fabric from Steven's uniform Loki had clutched in his hand when you brought him back to us for healing. When we realized Loki could not be healed N'Daia and I, and every wizard and sorcerer we could find in all of the realms used the fabric to scry. There is nothing left to find." She wraps her arms around herself and Thor reaches out to put his hand on her shoulder, but pulls it back when she turns to the windows to stare out at the night and keeps speaking, "I understand that he is your younger brother. You adore him. You have since the moment you first saw him in my arms. He has been yours to protect and love all his life and you have done such a wonderful job of it. I know you are clinging to the hope that there will be something to save him, to put everything back to rights, but…oh, my son."

She turns around and wraps him in her arms, standing on the tips of her toes to do so. He can feel her trembling in his arms and knows that nothing she will say now will be good.

"Mother, what is it?" He is almost afraid to ask.

"Loki has slipped away from us in mind, Thor. He will not awaken again. There is only such a short while before he is gone from us completely. Please, son, be a comfort to us now. Your father and I…we need to be able to lean on you now. We cannot…I cannot…" She covers her mouth with the back of her hand to choke back her sob, then seems to recover her strength, "I must be at his side. Go…take your comfort with Sif. As much as you can. We still have a number of days, I think. I…must go."

She pulls out of Thor's arms and flees from the great hall in the same direction as his father. Thor stands in the middle of the room for a moment, his head down, fighting himself. He wants to be a dutiful son like she asks, a comfort to them, but he knows, more decidedly than he has known anything in the whole of his life…Steven in alive. His brother has a chance to be saved if only he can get to Midgard to find him. Whether he is an old man or not, his brother will have him and want him, need him. He has never disobeyed a direct order from his father. He knows that the order was given not as his father but as the Allfather. If he goes against it now he runs the risk of banishment. He will deserve banishment if he disobeys the command and there is nothing to find. But, even if the cost is banishment if he can find Steven and his brother is saved because of his actions…He opens his eyes and he knows exactly what he needs to do.

"Wait for us, brother," Thor whispers to the air, hoping somehow his words have power, "I will bring your Steven back to you."

Sif is sleeping when he slips into his room for his armor. He puts it all on as silently as possible and picks up Mjolnir from the table where she rests. She is singing for him as he grasps her hilt and he knows that he has made the right decision. She is in agreement. He leans over and places a kiss to Sif's forehead, praying silently that it will not be the last time he sees her and if it is that his father will not hold their relationship against her when he is banished.

"I love you," he murmurs before he strides out of the room.

Heimdal is waiting for him when he comes to the Bi-Frost.

"I am bound by honor to our king. I cannot open the bridge to you." He says it as if he has rehearsed it.

"I understand," Thor tightens his grip on Mjolnir and frowns when Heimdal turns his back and begins to walk away.

"There is a disturbance on Midgard even my eye cannot see. I would like to know what it is."

Thor grins at the gatekeeper's retreating back and then turns when the Bi-Frost activates. He closes his eyes and says one more silent prayer, begging his brother to hold on before he opens his eyes again and jumps.


	14. Steve Awakens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wakes up in a world vastly different from the one he left without Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply
> 
> A/N: So, I lied a bit. There are going to be more chapters than I thought to finish everything off. Not certain how many yet. I hope no one minds. The rating for this fic has been updated. I'd like to apologize for not doing it sooner. I didn't think, when I started, that it would get as "M" rated as it has. Thanks for reading!
> 
> WARNING: Steve thinks about suicide in a hypothetical way a lot in this chapter. Please do not read if that is going to be triggering for you.

"Stevie? You doing okay, Slugger?"

Steve's heart rate increases slightly and it's only the familiar voice that turns the jump into a flinch when Bucky is suddenly at his elbow. For a man just a few months from his ninetieth birthday Bucky is still incredibly light on his feet and doesn't look nearly his age. It's the same with Peggy. They both attribute it to good clean living and keeping each other young, but Steve is almost certain that they must have done something along the way, used some of the S.H.I.E.L.D tech they helped to create, to keep themselves fit and strong. Not that he blames them. He looks at all they've accomplished in the half-century that he slept and is blown away. The world is so very different from when he went into the ice that sometimes it's hard to believe he isn't still just dreaming. But, no…some things he just has to accept are real. Including the new reality he finds himself in.

He is grateful that the first face he saw when he woke up was Bucky's. At first he didn't recognize him, of course. He looked over at the older gentleman in the comfortable slacks and sweater seated next to him, confused for a time. Satisfied that the man couldn't hurt him, even if he tried, he took a moment to turn away from the kind eyes and small smile and looked at the room. It was like nothing he'd ever seen. Not that there was anything out of place in it. Dresser, bed, mirror…But, all of the edges were harsher than he remembered. The bed was bigger than any other he'd ever slept in, the frame huge and heavy, ornately carved wood with black metal accents. No one he'd ever known had a mirror that big in their home unless they had a good deal of money. He turned his face to where he heard music. Summertime. Gershwin. At least that was familiar, but the radio it was coming out of was like no radio he'd ever seen before, sleek and black with the title of the song scrolling across a small screen with a picture of Billie Holiday on it. He felt tears of frustration and confusion welling up in his eyes and the anger beginning to rise in his chest when he turned his face back to the man seated in the chair next to the bed.

"You know I always liked Abbie Mitchell better," the man said gently, "Liked her real high voice. But, I know you're a Billie fan. Could never get enough jazz, could you?"

Like lightning out of the blue Steve knew who was sitting next to him, "Bucky?"

The blue eyes that were suddenly so familiar warmed at being recognized. For the next three hours Steve listened carefully as Bucky filled him in on everything he'd missed, everything that'd happened since he'd gone into the ice that day. Steve stayed on his back in the middle of the bed, his eyes closed, and tears slowly leaking out the entire time as he took it all in. Almost all the Commando team gone. Only Bucky, Peggy, Dum Dum, and Falsworth left, most of the rest taken by time and illness. Howard and his wife killed only a few years after their first and only son was born. Betrayed by a man that Howard had thought was his friend, but who only really wanted the business they'd built together to himself. Howard killed for the one thing he'd never really had a care for. Money.

Bucky told him about the many changes in the world since that day. What the world had gained, what they'd lost. He told him about the army trying to re-create the super soldier program and S.H.E.I.L.D., the covert intelligence agency that he, Peggy, Howard, and Phillips started together, stepping in just before disaster could strike a brilliant scientist who's life would have been forever altered if the test had been allowed to proceed. He told him about the changes in America, how everything they'd once fought for was now considered "quaint" and was honest when he told Steve that he didn't know if he would still want to call himself Captain America if it was this America he was defending. If there was one thing Steve had always been able to count on it was that Bucky was always going to tell him the truth. So when he stopped Steve finally worked up the courage to ask.

"What about Loki? He went down with me. He…he'd been shot by one of Schmidt's weapons and he was…Did you find him?"

"No, Steve," Bucky stood for a second, but only to come to the edge of the bed and then lay down on it next to Steve. Steve had never known his father, but he imagined it was very much what a father would do when Bucky took him in his arms, allowed his head to rest on his chest and stroked his hair, "We searched the entire wreckage for Loki, but we never found him. Not in ice like you were, not a body, nothing."

"There has to be something!" Steve howled, gripping Bucky's sweater in his hand, Loki's loss being the one thing that could send him over the edge. He'd accepted as they were going down and Loki went limp in his arms that his lover was gone, but to not be able to say goodbye, to not give him a proper burial. He'd already lost so much. How could he lose that, too? "He had to be there! He was in my arms!"

"I'm so sorry, Stevie. He wasn't there."

Steve didn't know how long he screamed and raged against all of the grief and anger inside of himself. He was careful not to hurt Bucky no matter how angry he was, but even though he knew Bucky knew how much damage he could do the older man never left him go. He just held Steve until the storm was over, stroking his hair and whispering words of comfort.

"Maybe…" Bucky spoke quietly when the screams turned back to quiet tears, "Maybe whatever he was…maybe his people…maybe something happens to their bodies when they die. I've seen it a couple of times since the war. They just…fade."

Steve's head jerked up so fast Bucky had to pull back in a flash to prevent a broken jaw, "You knew?"

"That day he saved me on the train," Bucky nodded, "I saw…I don't know what I saw, but he wasn't…he was blue."

"I don't think he ever realized he sometimes did that when we…when we were…"

"Stevie, I've known you were gay since the moment we went to our first burlesque and you couldn't take your eyes off the bouncer. Do you really think I've ever cared who you want to sleep with?" Bucky tucked Steve back against his chest like a child and began running his hand through Steve's hair. Steve felt something in him settle into place as he relaxed against the still strong chest.

"Sometimes when we were making love he would turn. God, he was beautiful. I didn't care that he was something I'd never seen. From the moment I saw him I knew I wanted him and I would want him for the rest of my life. I was willing to wait until he was ready to tell me everything. I know he wanted to. I…I fell for him so fast, Bucky, and I know he felt the same for me. Some of the stuff he said…I'm pretty sure he defied his people to stay with me. And I…I thought we were going to die together. I was at peace with that. Buck…why am I still alive?"

It took weeks before the primary thought in his head wasn't the wish that he was dead. He spent full days laying in the large bed in Bucky and Peggy's guest room planning exactly how to take his own life before his healing factor could save him. The only thing that kept him from implementing any of the plans he made was the fact that he was staying in the home that Peggy and Bucky had built for themselves. He couldn't bring himself to disrespect them and the effort they were making for him in that way. He'd heard the raised voices from where he was laying in the bed the day Nick Fury, the head of S.H.I.E.L.D. and one of the many that Peggy and Bucky had raised as their own visited, demanding that he, basically property of the government, be turned over on direct orders from the World Security Council. For training, for operations that only a super soldier could pull off, for whatever they wanted.

"Fuck the Council," was Bucky's response.

"We raised you, Nicky," Peggy said in her quiet, strong way, "You get your stubbornness from us. You also learned how to be the world's best spy from us. Don't for a second believe that we ever shared all of our secrets. And don't for a single moment believe we wouldn't go toe to toe with the Council for Steve just as we would for you or any of your brothers or sisters. Tell them that if they try to demand him we will bring them and S.H.I.E.L.D. down. We will plaster all of their dirty secrets across the internet and step aside when a very paranoid world burns them for every secret operation, every under the table dealing, every mistake of the last sixty years, even if it brings us down with them."

"He fought his fight, Nick. He gave up more than anyone should ever have to. Let him live in peace now." Bucky's voice was gruff.

Nick's voice after that was quiet and respectful, "You know that this is exactly what I wanted to hear, Pop. Now I can give the threat and mean it."

"You're a good boy, Nicky," Peggy said, and Steve could hear the sweetness back in her voice, "Now give your mother a kiss and set the table for dinner."

"What're we having, Mum?"

"What do you take me for, son? We so very rarely see you anymore. Of course I made your favorite."

It was Bucky and Peggy and their children who kept him sane over the next weeks and finally brought him out of his darkest days. Each of the children they'd taken as their own after they'd realized that they weren't going to have biological children had been damaged in their own way. Some, like Natasha, Pietro, and Wanda, had been enhanced like he had by various groups around the world, usually not for any good purpose. Some, like Tony and Clint, were entirely too intelligent for their own good and very skilled in areas most people wouldn't understand. Bucky and Peggy understood and loved them all. They took broken children and made them all into a family. A family that ended up working for a covert intelligence, true, but Steve could see and feel the obvious love between the so many disparate personalities. The kids took to him as if he were another brother to take in and love. Bucky and Peggy encouraged it and try as he might he couldn't seem to think of them as the friends he once knew any longer. They became the parents he never had and slowly, but surely, they helped the jagged wounds in his heart to become sore reminders. But, Loki was never far from his mind.

He comes back to himself, drawn out of his thoughts by Bucky at his elbow. The sun is setting over the hill of the park that he has walked through for miles and miles over the past months. Sometimes the twins come with him. They're the ones closest to him in age and Wanda's quiet strength and Pietro's lightning chatter are like balms on his worst days. But, today they didn't come with him and he is surprised that Bucky came all the way out to the park when he knows that he'll be home for dinner. He's nothing if not punctual.

"I'm okay," he says quietly as Bucky sits next to him on the bench.

They sit quietly for a time, but Steve isn't surprised when Bucky starts talking again, "It's not getting any better, is it, Stevie?"

"It…No. No it's not, Buck. It's not as raw. I don't think about a way to kill myself every minute or so anymore. But, I ache for Loki. I feel it right here…all the time." He places a hand over his heart and rubs. The ache has been getting more and more pronounced with each day.

"God, Stevie. I'm so sorry."

"I know, Buck. Being here with you and Peggy and the whole family…it's been like the family I always wished I had when we were kids. I love you all so much, but if there were any way I could go back, Bucky, I would leave this all behind in a minute. If I could make it so that I died with him that day, I would."

"I know, bud, I know. I wish I could make everything okay for you. I wish I knew how to make things right for you. What can I do?"

"I wish I wasn't thinking about this. I wish I could heal, but I just want to rest, Bucky. I know you have cryogenic research happening at S.H.E.I.L.D. I want you to put me back on ice."

"Stevie, I can't do that."

"Buck I need you to. If you love me at all…"

He's cut off by a sound like a roaring fire and they both jump to their feet, Bucky reaching for a sidearm and Steve reaching around his back for his shield, neither of which are actually there as they each throw up an arm to block their eyes from the bright light that blinds right in front of them. It fades as quickly as it comes and outlined against the setting sun is a very familiar figure. One from the past only, like Steve, he hasn't aged a day.

Steve breathes out and feels the ache in his heart spike.

"Thor…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am thinking of starting a side story with my now very very AU involving Bucky, Peggy and their big hodgepodge family. If there is any interest, please let me know.


	15. Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbyes come in many forms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply.

"Be well, sweetheart," Peggy whispers quietly in his ear as she wraps her arms around his neck and hugs him as tightly as she can. It doesn't take much at all for him to lift her off of her feet as he wraps his arms around her, but she just keeps holding him as he buries his face in the juncture between her neck and shoulder, breathing in her scent. It's the same rose oil she used to wear when she was young. The same kind of scent his mother wore when she was still alive. She reminds him so much of his mother in that moment, it's as if they are one in the same person. Of course, Peggy's accent is English, his mother's was Irish and his mother never had a chance to reach the age Peggy is now, but he imagines that if she'd lived he'd love her is very much the same way he loves Peggy. With a swelling heart and throat closing with the emotion simply loving her brings. It isn't as strange as he thinks it should be that Bucky and Peggy, close friends once, have become the parents he never really had a chance to know in his adult life. In a way he's glad they did. Looking at them in such a different manner doesn't make him feel nearly as guilty about how much of their lives he's missed. This way he can be just another of their many wayward children. He sets her back on her feet, but doesn't try to pull away when she continues to stroke his hair.

"Peg," Bucky set a hand to her shoulder, "Come on, sweetheart, you have to let him go now. The god of thunder sitting in our living room is getting antsy."

The joke falls flat as there are more tears in Bucky's voice than there is laughter, but Peggy nods against Steve's neck and pulls away from him. He straightens as she reaches up to cup his face in her hands. The tears rolling down her cheeks bring his own tears into his eyes and he sets a hand over hers on his cheek and closes his eyes as he nuzzles into it.

"It took us years to accept that you were gone," She murmurs as he turns his face a little and places a kiss to her palm, "Howard searched for so long, but we finally accepted it, finally gave up on seeing you again. And then finding you alive, being able to touch you, to hold you, these past months. Oh, sweetheart, please don't let this be the last time we see you."

"It won't be, Peggy, I promise," he whispers.

"Oh, god." She laughs through her tears, "Just call me what you want to call me and be done with it, Steve. I already have six children. I've room in my heart for one more at least."

"Mum," Steve says quietly and huffs out a laugh when she chokes back a sob and wraps him in her arms again.

"You must promise me that you'll find a way to tell us you're safe," She demands, "Some way, Steve. I won't be able to rest until you do."

"I promise."

"Good boy," she pats his cheek, "Now say goodbye to your…"

"Well, don't hesitate now, Peg," Bucky laughs when Peggy turns to him with a raised eyebrow, "If you're Mum I guess I'm Pop. Should be weird, right?"

"Should be," Steve agrees as he holds out his hand. Bucky's grip is as solid as it ever was.

"Strange how it's not," Bucky grins that grin at him and for a moment he's nineteen again and promising Steve he won't win the war without him. Steve draws his breath in quickly and pulls him into a tight hug. He ignores the tears that stain his shirt when Bucky pulls back again and Bucky extends him the same courtesy.

"Seriously, Punk, let us know you're safe somehow. She's not going to let anyone get any rest until she knows."

"Got it, Pop."

He picks up the small bag of things he's gathered for his own the past few months, mostly clothes, but a couple of books that have come to mean a lot to him, pictures of this family he has found himself a part of, and a set of vintage Commando trading cards that Nick's partner gave him in return for signing his Captain America set. Peggy laces her fingers with his and Bucky puts a hand on his arm and as a unit they move into the living room where Thor is looking about as out of place as a Martian in the tastefully decorated room. The room is not small, but he makes it seem small just through the sheer force of his personality. He is speaking quietly with Wanda as she makes small demonstrations of her powers for him. Pietro took off as soon as he realized Steve was leaving. He knows the man he has taken as his youngest brother has abandonment issues and the last thing he wants to do is hurt him, but he needs to go.

Seeing Thor in the dying the light of the sun was one of the more bizarre moments of his life, and that was saying something after all he'd seen. He'd accepted from the first night he and Loki made love that there was something about his lover that wasn't quite human, but Thor's tale of different realms, of his and Loki's parentage, of Loki's royalty had really thrown him. Of course, everything that had always been a little off and he'd wondered about for so long had finally made sense. Loki's strength, the way he could come and go without Steve noticing, even with his enhanced senses, even the way Thor would just be there one moment and gone the next. He'd never had a conversation with the big man during the war, but he demanded attention even when he wasn't saying a word and Steve could remember very well seeing Loki in discussion with him from across the camp on a couple of different occasions. Of course, he'd questioned why Loki's brother would be in the middle of the war with them only sporadically, but like so much else, he figured Loki would tell him when the time was right.

Thor's apologies for not being able to get him out of the ship at the same time he dragged Loki from the water, obviously something that had been weighing on his conscience for many years, just about broke Steve's heart. The embrace he was treated to as Thor made his apologies and expressed his joy at finding Steve alive nearly broke his back. As soon as Thor explained all that was happening, his certainty that Steve was alive, Loki's illness, their father's forbidding of any Asgardian to travel to Midgard…it had finally all made sense. Everything in his heart that had made him feel so completely out of place on his own world, not just in this new time, it finally all fit. He wasn't supposed to be here, or anywhere, without Loki. His soulbonded.

Suddenly, he feels a stab of pain just above his heart, where he can feel the bond, he now realizes. It takes his breath away for a moment and nearly doubles him over in pain. Thor's head snaps up, his expression confused for a moment, then understanding dawns on his face.

"I can feel you," He says, "Magically. All of the spells I lent my strength to in an effort to find you. Even in his weakened state Loki hid you from prying eyes. He no longer has the strength. His spell is broken," Thor stands, "Every moment Loki grows closer to death."

Steve nods in understanding and they all step outside. Wanda taking a page from Peggy's book and taking Steve's arm as Bucky steps back to allow Thor through the door. They have just stepped outside when a silver-blonde blur materializes as Pietro in front of Steve. His head is down and he is holding out something that Steve never thought he'd see again.

"My shield," he murmurs, taking it from Pietro, "I…brother, thank you." He slings it on his back until is rests comfortably by the straps he put on it back in the war and drags both Wanda and Pietro into a hug. The twins are both crying softly and speaking in what he recognizes as Sokovian. He only recognizes a few words, enough to know that they're telling him they love him and wishing him safe travels.

"I love you, guys," he whispers, "Thanks for letting me be your brother. Tell the others I'll see them soon, huh?"

Wanda steps back, wiping her eyes, and pulls Pietro with her.

"You have to go," Wanda sighs, "He needs you. I can see the bond. It's getting weaker."

"Pietro," he hears Bucky sigh as he steps up to Thor, "Did you really run half way across the world and break into your brother's secure vault to take a classified piece of government property…again?"

"Sorry, Pop," Pietro sniffs, but there is a wicked little grin on his face as he and Wanda step back to their parents.

"I love you!" He calls as he's surrounded by white flame. Now that he doesn't have to be strong for his family he allows himself to feel the full force of the pain from the bond. It's worse than the procedure that made him who he is, worse that feeling himself freeze to death, almost as bad as knowing Loki was dying in his arms as they went down. He closes his eyes and keeps the image of his family in his mind's eye as he feels weightless. He's never enjoyed flying and trying to keep his mild panic down along with controlling the growing pain in his chest that is now radiating down his arms is almost more than he can bear without screaming. He feels Thor wrap an arm around his shoulders and is glad when they're on solid ground again, but there is barely enough time to hear a gruff voice bid him welcome to Asgard before Thor has taken off, dragging him along again. He barely has strength to keep up with Thor as they run through golden halls that Steve barely sees. He stumbles and Thor wraps an arm around his waist to aid him.

He can hear the heartbreak in a woman's voice as they come to a stop before a large door.

"The Vanir Death song," Thors rumbles, "No!"

He throws open the door. Steve sees everything in flashes around his vision going in and out. A stately man and woman sitting on a large, ornate bed, cradling a thin blue form between them. Once he has seen him he only has eyes for Loki. He barely recognizes him, his lover is so altered. Thin beyond belief, his hair limp and dull, his eyes and cheeks sunken. He stumbles toward the bed, his legs unable to hold him up any longer. Thor catches him on one side, the beautiful woman catches him on the other.

"Steven," She whispers, "Oh, Norns…Thor…you've come too late."

"No," Thor denies, "No, it cannot be too late."

"At least they will be together," The one-eyed man says quietly as Steve is laid gently on the bed next to Loki. He has just enough strength to turn on his side and run a hand over Loki's still, beautiful face. He wants to tell them that he is feeling at peace, stronger, but the darkness comes over him again and he can't fight it back. He feels someone place Loki's hand in his, tightens his grip, and knows no more.


	16. Final Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some revelations are made to Sif and she reveals some information of her own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply.
> 
> I hope no one really thought this wouldn't be a happy ending. :)

She has been standing in the shadows just outside of Loki's chambers for hours. She refuses to call it hiding, though she can admit, at least to herself, that's exactly what she is doing. It is not that she doesn't want anyone to see her. It's not that she wouldn't like to take any one of the dozens of healers who have come and gone over the past few hours aside and demand that they tell her exactly what is going on inside the rooms that only family have been allowed in for days. It is simply that she does not want anything to distract her from being the first Thor sees when he leaves the room. Whatever the news is, joyous or devastating, she wants him to know that he has her full support and that she will be there for anything that is to come next. Be it mourning or celebration. In the past hours she has been joined for short periods of time by all of their friends. Fandral managed to produce a full meal from inside of his cloaks and just shrugged, his hapless grin on his face when she demanded to know why he thought she needed feeding. Volstagg offered to bring a chair for her and laughed his way away from her when she reached her blade at the insinuation only to realize she was in her sleeping gown and had no weapons on her person. He held up his hands in a placating gesture, telling her his wife was the exact same way and he meant no offense. She bloodied his nose regardless of knowing it was only in jest and felt better. Hogun appeared silently at her elbow as he has for thousands of years and she was comforted by his simple, quiet presence.

"Who told?" She asked quietly.

"You can hardly blame Mari for being excited." He responded.

"Mari…" She tried to place a face with the name, "You mean the healer-in-training that Fandral has been bedding?"

"That Fandral has been courting," He corrected softly, "In her defense, she told only him. And he told only us. No one else knows."

"Well, there is that," She agreed.

"Promise you will call for chair if you tire…"

"Of course, my friend, I'm stubborn, not stupid." She couldn't help the smile, even through her worry.

Hogun smiled with his eyes, as was his usual fashion, and stayed by her side for a while longer before he melted back into the shadows and away from her side without a sound.

She has maintained her vigil alone since that time, but she knows that it must be coming to an end. The healers who have come and gone over the past hours have finally all left the room by her count. Not a single one has given away, in body or expression, what has occurred in the room. The rumors that Thor practically flew through the halls, dragging a listing Midgardian, upon his return, remain just that. She knew the moment he returned by the crack of thunder that woke her from her dead sleep and her heart has yet to stop racing at the idea that he brought with him the one being capable of saving the one they both love so deeply. She arrived at the room just as the lady Queen N'Daia rushed through the doors and now, from her observation the only ones left in the rooms are her lover, his parents, his brother, and the Queen N'Daia. Hopefully also Loki's beloved, but there is no way for her to know. She wraps her arms around herself and rubs at the skin on her upper arms that has grown cold. She regrets that she didn't think to take one of her heavy coverings with her when she ran from Thor's rooms. The nights in the spring are still winter cold and standing in only her sleeveless sleeping gown and bare feet is finally beginning to take its toll. She is about to give into her body's base needs and either call for a servant or run back to Thor's rooms for a moment herself when Thor steps from the room. He closes the door and leans against it momentarily, more weary than she has ever seen him.

"Thor," She steps out of the shadow, holding her arms up to him.

"Sif," He says her name like a prayer and moves across the hall to her in three large strides. He wraps her in his arms and holds her like he is desperate for her, burying his face in her hair and pulling her as close to him as possible. They know each other so well in body by now that she knows exactly how to stand so that they fit together perfectly. She shifts only slightly when he pulls back to press an immediately deep kiss to her mouth. It has been less than a full day's time since he last kissed her this way, yet somehow it feels like much longer.

"What is it?" She asks quietly when he pulls back and buries his face in the juncture between her neck and shoulder, "Did you find Steven?"

"I did," Thor responds, "Heimdal placed me on Midgard where there was a blindness in his vision that he could not explain and I found the good Captain, whole and sturdy and just as I remembered him from so long ago."

"That should not be possible for a mortal," She cannot stop the exclamation.

"No, it should not," Thor agrees, "He is no ordinary mortal. I explained all to him only to find that he has been as lost without Loki as Loki has been without him. The joy on his face when I told him Loki did not die that day…It will forever be a joyful memory for me. Mother told me she thought there was at least a number of days before Loki was gone, despite how ill he has become in recent days, so I thought there no danger in allowing Steven to say his farewells to his family. I did not know he was hiding his illness from me and from them. The healers say he must have been in extraordinary pain for at least several weeks, but he does not seem one to complain about the pain he is in. He, in fact, most likely took steps to hide it. His family knew nothing. By the time Loki's spell to keep Steven hidden was broken and we were gone with the Bifrost he was nearly as poorly off as Loki himself. We had just entered Loki's chambers when he collapsed entirely."

"Collapsed?" Sif pulls back and searches his eyes for any indication of what she needs to know, "Thor, please tell me…Loki?"

"It was very nearly a lost cause," He says gravely, "But the healers say they will recover."

"Oh, Norns," Her knees go weak with relief, but she forces herself to remain upright. He takes her elbows in his hands to support her anyway.

Then, he finally smiles, his weary eyes crinkling with genuine joy, "They sleep. For a moment as we laid them together it seemed as if they were both lost to us, but in moments color returned to them, their breathing became easier. We have had every healer in the realm in that room to verify it. They will be well. All will be well."

"Thor!" She cannot stop the joyful shout, similar to her battle cry, which issues from her as he picks her up and spins her in a circle, his joyful laughter ringing out around her like a song. They spin for a moment and she allows herself to throw her head back and feel her hair stream out behind her. The great burden on all of them these past years is finally easing. She feels lighter than she has in longer than she cares to remember as they laugh together, a few tears slipping from both of their eyes. She rests her hands on his shoulders when he stops spinning and looks deep into his eyes, seeing the genuine content there that she has not seen almost since that long ago holiday on Midgard. She leans forward to kiss his forehead gently and something in him seems to sober as he lowers her back to her feet.

"My delay, my blindness, might have cost us both of them."

"But, it didn't," She reminds him, cupping his face in one hand, "You brought him to Loki in enough time and they will be well. You were the only one to believe he was still alive and you acted accordingly at detriment to yourself. Had you been wrong, Thor, Loki would be dead now and you banished. Yet, you followed your instinct, your heart, and your brother will live because of it. You knew what had to be done and you were willing to defy an order made by a king desperate and grieving. All for love of your brother. Do not dwell on what might have been. You have saved them. You have saved the realms from the grief of a king. Your father is good and wise, Thor, but I fear what losing Loki would have done to him, would have done to us all. Your ability to know what must be done and do it despite consequence to yourself is only one reason I am certain you will be a great king when the time is right."

"Beloved," he whispers reverently as he takes her face in both hands and leans forward to press another gentle kiss to her lips, "You make me see the thruth in things. You make me a better man."

"You are weary and feeling overly sentimental," she looks away as the blush rises to her cheeks, but cannot stop the smile that quirks her lips at the corners.

"Perhaps" He agrees genially as he wraps her in his arms again. She breathes in his scent and holds on with all her might, allowing the warmth of his large body to sink into her bones, "But, that does not make what I say any less true," He pauses for a moment, then sighs "Are you going to make me beg you to marry me, Sif?"

The question is so quiet she almost doesn't catch it, but when it registers all that has been wild in her heart seems to settle. She allows herself to lean on him further and tilts her head back just enough so that she can look him in the eye.

"Beg?" She asks quietly, "I wasn't aware you'd ever even asked."

He chuckles quietly and presses soft kisses to her forehead, her cheeks, her nose, and her eyelids when they slip closed, "Will you be my wife, Sif?"

"Of course I will, Thor," She responds, "You've only ever had to ask."

He lets out a cry of joy like the little boy she once knew and takes her off of her feet to spin her around once more, "I cannot imagine Valhalla being any more joyful than this moment," he boasts, "My brother well, my beloved consenting to be my wife, and soon, with your agreement, of course, children." His eyes are uncertain for a moment. He has never asked her about children before. It may be he thinks like so many other of the warriors, that she may not want children. She is a warrior. Many of the men surrounding her think that because she does not follow traditional female roles in one part of her life she will not want follow them in other arenas. As if wanting to be a warrior has anything to do with being wife and mother. They have never known that she has always longed for children. They have never cared to ask. She knows that Thor does not think this way. He has ever been one to respect her and not make assumptions. She knows his thinking is more that he wishes to show her he respects that having children is as much her decision in their coming marriage as it is his, despite the fact that he will not only be her husband, but her king.

"Sooner rather than later," She agrees, then smiles and takes one of his large hands to place it low on her belly where she knows he will just be able to feel the difference in her body where her womb is beginning its growth to accept and nurture the child growing within her, "Sooner than you think."

It takes him a moment, but when he realizes what she is telling him he looks up at her with eyes filled with wonder, "Truly?"

"Truly," She confirms, "I have suspected for some time. The healers confirmed it for me only today. We are to have a daughter, Thor."

"A daughter," Thor falls to his knees as if his legs will hold no longer and she is concerned for only a moment before he takes her hips in his hands and presses a kiss to her belly, "And now you have given me everything."

"Sentiment," She sniffs, but smiles at him.

"Come!" He jumps to his feet, "We will announce Loki's healing to the court."

"Loki's healing but not our marriage and child?" She questions, quirking an eyebrow.

"Tell the court of my marriage and child before I tell my own mother?" He asks with a laugh, "How unwise do you think me, love?"

She laughs and takes his hand, turning only to blow a kiss and well wishes at Loki's door, behind which he sleeps with his own beloved, before allowing Thor to lead her away.


	17. Steve and Loki

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Loki awaken and share many things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply
> 
> Big sex scene between Loki and Steve in this chapter. Also, mentions of mpreg. Not actual mpreg, but it is spoken about on a potential level. This story may have an epilogue that contains mpreg, though. The next chapter will be the last unless I decide to actually do the epilogue. Thanks so much to everyone who has continued to support this story! I truly appreciate every save, bookmark, review, like, kudo, and comment!

For the first time in months Steve comes awake slowly, comfortably, happily warmed by gentle sun and the silken sheets that cover him from the waist down. He reaches out his hand to the opposite side of the bed when he does not feel Loki in his arms as expected, but does not feel anxious when his hand doesn't find his lover in the bed next to him. He reaches out along the bond that he can't really explain still and smiles when a pulse of love is sent along with an image of the bathing room attached to their chambers. He sends his love along the bond as well and cannot help the smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth at the implied invitation to the bath that comes back at him. He lets himself take another couple of moments, rolling over in the bed so that he rests on his back, and opens his eyes to the rooms he has shared with Loki for nearly a fortnight.

If he wasn't absolutely certain that the last weeks did actually happen he would believe that he was still dreaming in the ice, but even his wildest dreams couldn't have lived up to all that Asgard is. The silver citadel and the golden halls are the least that this incredible land has to offer and he feels more at home here than he ever did on the world he was born to. Asgard is at once the best parts of all of the stories of knights and ladies, chivalry and kingdom, that he read as a child and the ideas he and Bucky used to have of the future as they went to the expos and saw all that humanity could dream for themselves. Nothing is perfect, he knows, and he is certain that there are things here that can be different, but that is the beauty of it all. When someone sees something unjust here, anyone, they can all speak and it can change. It's the dream he went to war for realized. Sometimes he feels guilt for deciding that this is where he belongs, but the world he came from is not the world for him now. So much has changed. He knows that he will never be comfortable there and the world will never be comfortable with him as he is. But, here on Asgard, he has his love and he can be whoever he wants to be. He's not just Steve from Brooklyn anymore, but he also doesn't have to try to live up to Captain America.

He rubs his chest over his bond when it warms slightly and pulls himself out of the bed. He stretches to greet the morning, more comfortable with his body and his nudity than he ever has been. He doesn't stop in front of his reflection anymore and wonder who it is he's seeing. Being Loki's bonded has given him a place in the universe, but also helped him to decide who he wants to be in his own right. He makes his way to the bathing room silently, a contented smile on his face, and pauses in the doorway to simply lean against the frame of the large door, cross his arms, and grin at the vision before him.

He only vaguely remembers how thin and ill Loki looked as Thor and Queen Frigga helped him into the bed. His pain was too great and he was losing touch with all reality, but he knows that Loki is looking better and stronger every day. His body is filling in again with love and good foods. He will never be a big man, but Steve can no longer see all of his ribs as if he were starving. His cheeks are still a little too prominent, but his eyes are bright and aware. He is regaining his color nicely and his hair is no longer limp and unkempt. In fact, Loki has braided it to keep it out of the water as he lays in the deep copper tub, large enough for four at least. There are still extravagancies here that Steve isn't sure he'll ever be used to, not after his upbringing. Loki is singing to himself softly, what sounds like a love song in Vanir, if Steve isn't mistaken, as he washes his arms and chest.

"Lingering in doorways is rude, my darling," he says quietly, just as musically as if he were still singing.

"Don't really care when I've got a view like I've got," Steve responds.

"I could make an argument for the same." Their eyes meet and Loki grins, "Care to join me?"

"You going to wash my back?" Steve asks, moving toward the tub.

"Gladly," Loki answers as Steve lifts himself over the side of the tub and settles in, his back to Loki's chest. Loki pulls him closer and rests his chin on Steve's shoulder, more massaging his chest than actually washing him. Steve moans a little from the back on his throat and closes his eyes. It feels incredible to him that they can do something like this and even if someone should walk in no one would even think twice. Not that anyone would walk in on the prince and his bonded bathing, but the idea that he and Loki being together is accepted and even celebrated is remarkably liberating for Steve.

"How did you sleep, sweetheart?"

"Well, my darling, and you?"

"Great, thanks."

They relax in the warm water for a time, simply letting the bond between them echo the happiness and love they are feeling for each other, both feeling a soul deep contentment that they never thought they'd feel again. There is more than enough time, Steve knows, to decide what they are to do with the years between now and Thor's coronation, at which time Loki will be expected to take on the role of the king's most trusted advisor, which he is more than happy to do and has been preparing for most of his life, but right now they are happy to simply be. Their bond strengthens day by day along with their health and will continue to do as long as they live. Which is, apparently, going to be a very long time. Frigga and the healers confirmed for them just the previous day that Steve shares Loki's, and any Asgardian, Jotun, or Vanir's, long life span. When he was first pulled from the ice Bucky told him S.H.E.I.L.D.'s theory was that the ice had preserved him and completely stopped his aging someway they couldn't explain. Asgardian technology confirmed it wasn't the ice, though it had saved his life for certain when Loki wrapped him in it without realizing. It is a Jotun defense mechanism, N'Daia explained, to keep them safe if they fell into the water on their own world. She'd never heard of it being used on another, but there was much they still didn't know about the bond. For all she knew all bonded would automatically protect their mate, even as close to death as Loki had been. They are certain, however, that it was this protective instinct and covering keeping Steve alive, but in stasis, that saved both their lives when they were separated by such time and distance.

But, it was not the ice that gave him his long life. Not the ice, but Erskine. For the second time in his existence Erskine had given him exactly what he wanted, though he couldn't have known it. Erskine's serum was a brilliant piece of chemistry Frigga explained after having studied his blood and breaking down the elements in it. It had fundamentally altered Steve's biological make-up to make him a perfect specimen of humanity. Perfect health and healing, all of the best parts of him, his mind and his heart, enhanced. That perfection also included the near constant replenishing of his cells, which slowed aging until it was very nearly nonexistent. He'd created a way to make Midgardians Aesir, put into simple terms. It could be re-created, she explained, but there was no reason on Asgard, of course, and it could be very dangerous on Midgard. She'd destroyed the samples of his blood that been taken and all of the research with a smile, kissing Steve's cheek gently at the grateful expression on his face.

"Where are you, my darling?" Loki asks quietly, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

"Just thinking how happy I am to know that we're going to get to be together for a very, very long time," Steve answers.

"Not nearly as happy as I," Loki holds him closer.

There are still moments when Loki catches his breath, certain that he has been dreaming. In these moments he must ground himself in Steven, hold him close, breathe in his scent, and feel the love that they share along the bond that flows between them. Magically it is something that he, and every other magic user can sense and even see, when looking with a very specific magical oversight. Steven cannot see it, but he knows that Steven feels it the same way he does when he catches his lover staring at him for a long moment before he reaches out for him to hold him close as if the need to be in physical contact is so strong he cannot control himself. Nurturing the bond between them has been paramount for them these past days. Sometimes it feels like a physical thing, drawing them together, not just a magical one. The fact that they can feed each other emotions and simple images along this connection between them has been endlessly fascinating. They spent the day before lying in bed exploring the bond, giggling like children and sharing sweet kisses to congratulate themselves when they succeeded in their little experiments. They cannot yet stand to be away from each other for longer than a few moments or farther away from each other than the distance from the bed to the bath without the bond feeling wrong within them, giving them both severe anxiety and pain in their chests. But, they know they are going to have to learn how to stretch the bond and tolerance of distance from each other. Eternity is a very long time to spend in the company of only one person, no matter how strong the love between them is. His mother has warned them against becoming too dependent on each other, but she understands their need to be close at the moment. She has promised them that after their bond has had time to stabilize she and N'Daia will help them to find ways to live as separate beings within it.

He knows there is wisdom in what his mother says, but right now he cannot imagine ever needing time away from Steven, ever wanting to be anywhere at all where he cannot simply reach out and touch him. When he came back to himself and opened his eyes to see the same familiar walls and fresco on the ceiling that he grew up with the tears had begun in earnest and for a moment the blackest despair he'd ever felt in his life had washed over him. He was certain that somehow his family had found a way, against his wishes, to prevent him from his death and reunion with his Steven. For the worst moment of his life he not only wished his death and missed Steven so badly his heart hurt, but hated his family for their interference. Then, a small, pained moan next to him brought him out of the black despair with pure surprise. He'd turned his head to the side, and couldn't help but let out a soft cry of shock to see Steven lying in the bed next to him, beautiful face drawn as if in pain. Feeling Loki's despair through their bond, they now knew. For another moment Loki was certain that the doppelganger was a trick to keep him alive.

But, then he'd begun to think. His family loved him. They would have no reason to keep him when all three had told him they would miss him greatly, but would see him to Valhalla with honor and love. He'd taken a moment after thinking about his family's love to truly examine how he was feeling physically. There was no more pain, no more bone deep exhaustion with his body and with life. Instead what he felt was a fatigue, true, but the same kind that comes after a long illness, when recovery has finally begun. The ache he'd been feeling in his chest for years was settled. It had taken a long time and exhausted him beyond belief, but he'd worked his way onto his side, staring at Steven's face, peaceful now that he was also at peace. He was just as beautiful as Loki remembered and, terrified that he was right and it was a trick of some kind, he couldn't help but reach out and touch Steven's cheek, cupping it in his hand.

With a small moan, this time one of someone coming out of a deep sleep, Steven's beautiful, clear eyes, the first thing that Loki had fallen in love with all those long years ago, had opened. And immediately the smile that put everything to right in Loki's existence had blossomed across the face of the one he loved most. At that moment he hadn't been able to control himself and had begun to sob. Steven, a little stronger than him, it seemed, moved like lightning to bring their bodies closer together and take Loki in his strong arms. They'd held each other for a long time, letting their presence together be a balm to both of their wounded souls. By the time they'd both cried themselves out in their relief they'd had little energy, so they took their time exploring each other, learning each other all over again, assuring themselves of each other's health. Loki traced the tattoo Steven had placed just above his heart, kissing it when Steven explained that the two serpents entwined with each other and biting each other's tails was one of the remaining symbols from the old Nordic legends, one that symbolized Loki himself. He'd had it done a very short time after waking from the ice and being told Loki had not been recovered. Steven was gentle as he traced the scars along Loki's abdomen that were fading with every year but continued to be reminders of Schmidt's Tesseract-driven weapons. He'd followed up tracing the scars with his fingers with tracing them with his tongue and they'd both laughed softly when their bodies gave a valiant effort to show interest, but they were both still too weak, too exhausted. They haven't made love yet, but Loki thinks perhaps now they are both strong enough and he knows that he is more than ready.

"When shall we marry, my love?" He asks quietly as he drizzles water onto Steven's chest.

"Hmm…" Steve hums from the back of his throat, "Maybe after the baby's born? Don't want to steal Thor and Sif's thunder. First royal baby in how long?"

"Millennia," Loki moans when Steven turns his face to Loki's neck and begins kissing it softly, licking and sucking at the skin lightly. Steve takes the moan as encouragement and lifts an arm out of the water to reach behind both of them and cups the back of Loki's head in his hand. With a deep breath, and a strangled little cry, Loki tightens his grip on Steven and tears his neck away from his lover's lips to fit their mouths together in a kiss that is all desperation and heat. Loki feels as if he is melting down to his very core and the muscles in his abdomen go lax even as he begins to harden. He moves his hands to rub lightly at Steve's nipples, parts of his flesh he remembers as being exceptionally sensitive and is not disappointed when Steven groans from deep in his chest and his hips jerk up of their own accord. He cracks open an eye and grins into the kiss when he can just see the outline of Steve's own arousal just under the water.

"It's been so long," Steve whispers, the movements of his hips making little ripples in the water that Loki is not sure he is even aware he is making, not that he can blame him. A moment of self-reflection and Loki realizes that he is rubbing against the small of Steven's back, "I've missed you so much. I've missed this so much."

Steven turns over in his arms to press their chests together and press Loki back against the wall of the tub. Just like so many years before they fit together from neck to ankle as if they were made for each other. They were made for each other. Loki smiles gently at the thought and lets his eyes flutter closed as Steven fits their mouths together again. The kiss is not as desperate as the one that preceded it as Steve pulls the leather strap keeping Loki's hair braided and laces his fingers through the loose locks. They breathe in unison, their hips moving lazily, the half hard cocks lining up, not desperate for release, but learning each other all over again. Loki wraps his long legs around Steve's hips and moans as their hips meet with more force than before. He breaks the kiss, panting, and leans up to whisper in Steve's ear.

"Take me to our bed, Steven. Make love to me. I've missed you so."

"I love you," Steve breathes.

"I love you," Loki responds without hesitation.

Steve smiles that smile that would break an angel's heart and slips out of the bath. For a moment Loki's breath is stolen by the perfection of the man he is able to call his own. It is as if Steven is molded from molten gold. Everything about him shines in the early morning light. He smiles as Steven leans down to pull him from the water, one hand behind his shoulders, the other behind his knees. He has never cared about being seen as slight or as dainty when he is with Steven. On the contrary, the differences in their frames have always delighted him. He loves that he is smaller than Steven. It makes him feel taken care of when he wants to feel taken care of. When he doesn't want to feel taken care of Steven doesn't try to hold him in a manner such as this and he loves him for it. He places gentle, sweet kisses to Steven's neck as he takes them both back to the bed. The water on their skin cools rapidly in the air and makes Loki shiver in delight at the sensation.

As Steve lays Loki on the bed he takes a moment just to look at him. He's all alabaster skin and emerald eyes, pupils blown wide with desire. He looks almost as if he is glowing against the darker emerald of silken sheets. His breath catches when Loki moans at the sensation of the sheets and arches his back in pleasure. It's been so long for both of them every little sensation feels like the first time. But, this first time they can afford to take it slow. Loki holds his arms out to Steve to invite him down and Steven smiles, shaking his head slightly.

"I'll take care of you," he promises, and gets on his knees on the floor, turning Loki's body so that his backside almost hangs off the edge of the bed. He positions himself between Loki's spread legs and puts one leg over each of his shoulders, "I always wanted to be able to open you up slow, but we never had time. Never had time to do this."

Loki gasps and arches his back again, feeling as if he is going to come off the bed entirely, when Steve licks a long stripe between the globes of his backside, "Take all the time you'd like," he barely manages to force out before Steve places a kiss directly to his pucker that takes his breath away.

Steve takes his time, licking and kissing, making Loki's tense muscles relax with the power of his tongue alone. He spends a long time licking Loki open as he has wanted to do since their first night together. Loki bites his closed fist when Steve takes his now heavy erection in his hand and pumps slowly as he continues his ministrations. Loki bites harder when he feels the oil on Steven's hand making the slide easy and smooth and turns his face to see an opened bottle on the small table he keeps by the bed. He can't help but quirk the corners of his lips up when he thinks that his love has had the same idea as he. That his love has been as impatient to resume the physical element of their relationship as he. He closes his eyes with a moan as Steve strokes him just a little faster.

"I want to hear you," Steve murmurs, two fingers from his free hand finally slipping into the loose muscles and crooking until he is able to directly rub the bundle of nerves inside of Loki that makes him see stars behind his closed eyes. Loki's hips jerk up and he takes his fist out of his mouth, crying out his pleasure to the large room. Steven smiles, pressing a kiss to his hip as he works his fingers in and out of Loki's body, scissoring, stretching the loosening muscles to make him ready to take Steven's girth. As he works a third finger in, he takes just the tip of Loki's arousal in his mouth and sucks gently. Loki tosses his head back and forth, overwhelmed after not having this for so many years, except in dreams. Steve keeps working his body, bringing him just to the edge, then tightening his grip on the base of his erection to calm him before bringing him to the edge again so many times that Loki looses any inclination to even attempt to count.

"I can't…I can't," Loki sobs when it feels like it has gone on for hours, "Please, Steven. It's been so long. I need to feel you inside of me again. Please…"

"Oh, God," Steve moans. He gets up, climbing onto the bed and turning Loki's body so that he can line his erection with Loki's ready entrance. He stays on his knees as he oils hismelf with one hand and pulls Loki's hips toward him with the other. Loki looks at him through hooded eyes, his expression one of absolute love and trust, as Steve leans over to kiss him before pressing in in one smooth push. They both cry out at the feeling of completion and Loki wraps his arms around Steve's neck, gasping when Steve pulls him up into a sitting position on his cock. They hold each other as close as possible, not really kissing, but breathing the same air, mouths almost touching, foreheads pressed and eyes locked. Loki is certain that Steve has never been so deep inside of him and, on a rough thrust, throws his head back and screams. He rakes his fingers down Steve's back, a little harder than his intended, but Steve just shouts and holds him still to thrust hard again and again and again.

"Steven!" Loki's voice breaks on his name when he finally erupts between them without a hand on his cock. Steven cries out his name in return and Loki almost feels the essence flow into his body as his lover buries his face his Loki's neck and roars his completion.

After what feels like eternity, wrapped in each other's arms, Steven pulls out gently and lays Loki back down. Loki is hardly aware when he is alone for a moment before Steve returns with a warm, wet cloth and cleans them both. He runs his hand through Steven's golden hair again and again in a soothing massage when he finally rejoins him in the bed and lays with him, his head resting on Loki's belly and one hand caressing his hip. They are silent for a long time, but Steven's head on his belly puts a thought into his head that finally, even in his dream-like state, he must voice.

"We could have one of our own, my darling."

"Hmm?" Steve is nearly asleep, but he turns contented eyes to Loki, "One what?"

"A babe." Loki answers, stroking his hair once more, "My magic gives me the ability to carry and give birth to a babe of our own, should we wish."

"Shape-shifting?" Steve asks.

"Just so," Loki nods, then hastens to add, "My ability gives me the power to retain this form even should I choose to carry."

"I love you, Loki," Steve says strongly, his expression a mix of incredulous and slightly offended, "I don't really care what form you take."

Loki feels the blush rise to his cheeks, but simply nods at Steven's proclamation.

"Maybe…" Steven finally hedges after a few long moment to think, "Someday…when we're ready to settle down?"

"Yes," Loki agrees, feeling his heart light, "Someday, my darling."

Steve grins at him and presses a kiss to Loki's belly before lays his head back down. Soon, the calm of their hearts and the warmth of the morning sun lulls them both back into a purely contented sleep.


	18. An Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frigga contemplates her sons, her husband, and endings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Previous Disclaimers Apply
> 
> I tried to write this again and again in Odin's voice, (I thought it would bring everything full circle nicely) but it wanted to be written in Frigga's. So, here it is. There will be an epilogue and just warning now, there will be semi-graphic mpreg birth in it. If you're uncomfortable with that or mpreg in general please just skip. Thanks so much for following this for so long and for every follow, kudo, review and comment. I haven't written in a very long time and the encouragement really helped me more than you'll ever know.

"Where is your mind, my love?" Frigga breathes gently in Odin's ear as she pulls them into one of the many private alcoves tucked here and there around the great banquet hall. Whoever the original architect was she has always appreciated his or her forethought in including them. It is so much easier to have a private conversation while not leaving the celebration. Though she knows originally these alcoves were not meant for conversation, but carnal trysts. It has been a good deal of time since she and Odin have used them in such a way, but she can remember many memorable feasts when they were still young when they did so. She sits on the large resting chaise and beckons to her husband with a gracefully offered hand. He sits at her invitation with a smile and neither of them reach for the privacy curtain as they situate themselves, preferring to watch the merriment around them. Odin sits against the high back of the chaise, his legs comfortably stretched in front of him. Frigga lies on her side, resting her head against his mighty chest with one of her legs thrown gracefully over both of his.

"It has certainly not been on the feast," he admits after a time spent watching the court and those they love most enjoy themselves with the feasting and the entertainment in the hall just before them.

"Certainly not," She agrees, running her hands over the elaborate pattern on his robes. So many years spent as his wife and queen she knows he will tell her what keeps his mind occupied when he is ready and not before. It is quite some time before he speaks again, and she is nearly asleep from warmth and comfort as she watches a candle flickering just outside of their little nest, before he does.

"We have had a good life, my queen," he murmurs. She blinks slowly, allowing herself time to come up out of her near meditative state before she replies.

"We have," She agrees.

They are both silent for a moment more as they observe Runa, their eldest granddaughter, on the cusp of womanhood herself, flirting harmlessly with a guardsman as her father glares menacingly from across the table. Neither young person is paying him any mind, wrapped up in their budding romance, and Thor is only brought out of the foul mood only seeing a daughter growing up can cause in a father when Sif hands their youngest to him. Little Soren is a joy to all of them, the only of Thor's eight children to inherit Sif's dark hair and Loki's predisposition for magic. The little boy, hardly into childhood yet, still toddling and not speaking unless he has something he feels is very important to say, grins up at his father and giggles, bright and happy, when Thor tosses him in the air on a mighty laugh and catches him in strong and sure arms. Soren has never questioned that Thor will catch him. He trusts his father implicitly, as he should. As should they all. Frigga cannot help the smile on her face. Fatherhood has made Thor the man she and Odin have always wished he could be. What his brother began by being the good man he is Sif and Runa finished just by being wife and daughter. Every subsequent child has only seen Thor grow. He is strong, fair-minded, and wise. He has more of the magic of the Allfather than Odin or herself have ever told him. It has been transitioning to him since the night he followed the vision it gave him of his brother's bonded mate nearly a century before.

"He is ready," Odin says quietly, as if he's reading her mind.

"Yes," She agrees. She leans up to place a sweet kiss to his mouth, "Are you?"

"I am." Neither of them is surprised at the answer. Being the Allfather is a great, heavy burden on any soul and Odin has held the title longer than any before. And under his rule they have all prospered. Asgard is at peace. Jotunheim is at peace. Midgard is as much at peace as it can be. It is time for Thor to take the mantel of king. And he will be just as wise, just as good for the realms as Odin has been, she is certain of it. Especially with Sif beside him and Loki and Steven behind him.

Her son's wife is no woman raised with the intention of being a figurehead queen. She is a strong, capable warrior in her own right and devoted, loving mother. She is perfect for Thor, and Frigga blesses the day Thor finally opened his eyes and his heart to her. She will not back down from him when their opinions differ and the lands will only benefit from her having Thor's ear as well as his heart. She will bring the strength of the warrior with the heart and sight of a mother. The perfect Allmother. For Frigga has no doubt that is what she will be. Frigga laughs softly when Sif stops Magnus, her most mischievous son, in his tracks with a single look before he can cause upset to one of the court with another of his pranks. Magnus does remind her so of Loki as a child.

Her eyes seek out her youngest and she is unsurprised to find him and Steven in another of the privacy alcoves. They are lying together on their resting chaise much as she and Odin are, the privacy curtain open, observing their friends around them as they speak quietly. They spent much time after their recovery on Midgard, giving Steven time with his family, those he counted as parents, before their deaths. She is glad they had the time, though she missed them both terribly when they were gone. Since they have come back to Asgard to live their daily lives, only making occasional trips to Midgard, they have both found the places they fit best. Loki is, as he was ever intended to be, his brother's most trusted advisor and chief expert in magic for the realms. He has learned so much more than she'll ever know with his time on Jotunheim and then the many years he spent with Steven on Midgard. Steven has come into his own as Hogun's second in commanding the forces of Asgard. He has introduced training regimens that none had ever seen before and his tactical mind has given them all much thought when it comes to how they have fought battles for the past millennium.

She cannot help the little sigh of pleasure that escapes her when Sif and Thor, Soren still on his hip, join Loki and Steven in their alcove. Loki and Steven sit up to make room for them on the chaise and Loki takes Soren from his father to cuddle him. Soren, so like his uncle in many ways, settles into the arms holding him and relaxes into a deep sleep as only a babe can. His parents and his uncles continue their conversation quietly in deference to his slumber. It is clear upon all of their faces just how much pleasure they get from each other, these four beings, two couples. Brothers and those who love them most. These four. She sits up a little straighter as a sudden thought hits her, almost a prophetic vision. She hasn't had one for years and this feels nothing like those, but she is certain in an instant. These four will be tried like no others have been before them. They will face a great evil that will threaten not just Asgard, but all realms and the very fabric of space and time itself. And just as she is certain that this great evil will test them all in ways none have ever faced she is certain that they will defeat it. They will win. These four, and the many alliances they have formed with the powerful willing to follow them to the death. Thor and Sif, already so trusted to lead Asgard and Vanaheim as the Allfather and Consort have for so many years. Their armies would die for them. Steven and Loki representing Midgard and Jotunheim. The great Jotun armies will fall into place behind Loki and the unique mix of warriors of Migard will fall under Steven's mantle when the time is right. These four. All of them leaders of men and women. Tears of both pride and fear fill her eyes and she presses the back of her hand against her mouth to contain a sob. They will win, but at what cost? Will she still have her children and grandchildren when all is said and done? Another sudden thought makes her shudder. What would the future have held, what would her vision have been, if things had not fallen exactly into place as they have?

"What would have become of us all if I'd never found Loki that day?" Odin asks, reading her mind again. She knows in that moment he's had the same vision, has felt the same certainty. He wraps her more closely in his arms, "If we'd never loved him the way we do? If he and Thor were not the brothers they are or Loki had never found Steven and his illness never brought Thor and Sif together?"

"Perish the thought, my love," She quiets him, cupping his jaw in her hand, "For you did find him and we do love him. Everything we have done and they have done in return has led us to this place. We have done well, my darling, and now we must trust them to do their part. The sun sets on our influence, love, and rises on theirs. We must rely on their strength now."

"May it not be needed for many years," Odin breathes, putting as much power and influence into the words as he has in his body.

"May it not be needed for many years," She repeats the words and adds her power to his.

"We must not dwell on this," Odin says quietly, "We have no way to know when it will come to pass and in the time between…joy…and love…and family."

"Yes," She agrees, pressing a kiss to his bearded jaw.

"More soon." Odin nods to the other alcove and she turns to look just as Loki gives Steven a secret smile before handing Soren to his mother and taking Steven's hand to press it low to his belly. Steven looks at him, unsure for a moment, before he realizes Loki's meaning. Then, the world comes alight as Steven lets out a sound of pure joy at Loki's nod. He cannot contain his energy and joy and jumps to his feet. Thor joins him and they pound each other's backs and laugh for a moment while Sif holds Loki, Soren awake now between them, more curious than upset. Steven is gentle, but enthused, as he pulls Loki away from her after a moment and swoops him up in his arms, kissing him with great passion. Frigga almost feels like an intruder when they press their foreheads together and shut out the world for a moment, simply breathing each other and the joy of their miracle in. Thor's announcement to the room at large is heralded with great shouts of joy and congratulations to the expectant parents and a mug of the finest ale is pressed into Steven's hand while Sif hands over a cup of the sweetest fruit juice to Loki and all in the hall raise a glass to the new royal babe growing within the beloved second prince's belly.

Frigga allows herself to be drawn up by Odin and they make their way across the hall as all part to let them through to their son and his beloved. She says a silent prayer of thanks and joy as she holds Steven and then Loki close to her and celebrates their joyful news with them.

"Two," Loki whispers to her as she holds him.

"Oh, my love," She cups his face in her hands.

"I haven't told Steven yet," he admits, "Perhaps I will surprise him."

"Wicked boy," She scolds good-naturedly, "I do love you so."

"And I you, Mother."

She passes him to Odin and allows Steven to wrap her up in another embrace as she cries softly from the joy of it all. Yes, she thinks, this is exactly as it was always meant to be.

And it is a good life.


	19. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The birth of two princes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All previous disclaimers apply.
> 
> Very last chapter of Second Son. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have. Mpreg birth is this chapter. I think there may be other stories to tell in this AU verse. Hodgepodge Family about the time Steve and Loki spend on Earth with Bucky and Peggy and their family and a sequel with a major enemy (Thanos.)

"Norns," Loki pants and rolls his head where it rests against the padded angle board that allows him to comfortably sit up rather than lying flat on his back, which is, apparently, not comfortable for childbirth. Not that there is anything comfortable about childbirth in his mind. He looks up at his mother with tears rolling down his face and can't and refused to be ashamed of them as his mother takes the hand he reaches for her, "Mother, I can't do this!" He lets loose a sob as another hard pain grips his middle.

"Yes you can, my love," Frigga sounds more certain than she feels as she takes a cool cloth from a servant and runs it over Loki's warmed, red face, trying to free it of sticky sweat and tears. She has never given birth herself, but she has assisted in the birth of each of her grandchildren. Perhaps it is because Loki is biologically male and it is only through magic that he was able to conceive and carry his child that this birth seems more difficult than any of Sif's. It may also be that Loki is fighting the birth, not as prepared as he thought he would be mentally. He's always known hypothetically he is capable of birth, but she knows he never actually thought he would, not until Steven. Or perhaps it is that Loki is birthing twins. Whether it is any of these reasons, all of them, or none the birth seems to be taking much too long. Her Loki is so exhausted, scared and in so much pain. While she loves Sif like a daughter, seeing the man she raised from infancy in such pain, the one she nursed to health, the one she held through nightmares, the one she has mourned with, laughed with, and loved all his life long cuts her like a physical blow. She doesn't say anything, but she turns to N'Daia and knows that there is panic in her eyes. N'Daia smiles gently, reassuringly, and sets one cool hand to her shoulder and the other to Loki's forehead. Loki follows the coolness of hand like a kitten seeking affection.

"You can do this, Loki Odinson," N'Daia says in a strong, certain voice, "This is the most difficult part of the birthing, my child, while you wait for the babe to be in the best position for the final push to birth. Breathe through it, love, and think of the prize at the end. Your children, Steven's children, in your arms."

"Steven," At his mate's name Loki's eyes clear and his voice is stronger than it has been for hours, "I need Steven. Now."

"Of course," She motions to the page standing at the door, a very young, very tall and gangly Jotun girl, the third daughter of a noble family sent to Asgard in goodwill for training in the healing arts. She is a bright, cheerful girl and smiles widely as she takes off as quickly as her long legs will carry her. Frigga hopes that Thor, Odin, and The Warriors Three have not plied Steven with too much mead, as if often the custom for men waiting to become fathers. It is not common on Asgard for a birthing mother to request the presence of her mate. In many ways Asgard is still archaic and birthing is one of them. It is often seen as woman's work and a man at his wife's bedside is not usual. But, nothing about Steven and Loki has ever been usual or common. She knows that the times Steven was born and raised in it was not common for Midgardian fathers to be in the birth room either, but Steven will never let that stop him from being at Loki's side at his request. She knows in her deepest heart that no matter what his state, silly with Asgardian liquor or not, Steven is devoted to Loki and their children and he will do whatever Loki requests without question or delay.

She is not disappointed. Just moments later Steven bursts into the room, ungracefully. Unusual for him, but he straightens his tunic after his abrupt entrance and makes his way to Loki without seeing anyone else in the room. He has been waiting, Frigga realizes with a small smile. He stayed away because it was expected, but the entire time he has been waiting to be called into the room. He wants to see his children born and he is happy that he has been invited in. She can see all of it written on his face. Loki brightens considerably when he sees his husband and sits up, reaching for him. Steven crosses the room in just a few long strides and takes the hand that Loki is holding out to him before leaning over to kiss Loki's forehead.

"How are you, sweetheart?" he asks quietly. Just Steven's presence has already calmed and steadied Loki. He doesn't cry out with the next contraction and instead breathes steadily through the pain that grips his abdomen and presses the back of Steven's hand to his forehead. Steven makes a sound of sympathy from the back of his throat and kneels next to the low bed, never taking his eyes off of his bonded mate. Loki leans back and pants as the contraction ends, never releasing Steven's hand.

"This is the most difficult part of the birthing as the babe moves into position," N'Daia repeats for Steven, "The pressure on his spine and hips is immense and greatly painful, but he cannot yet push for fear of harming the babe."

Steven strokes Loki's hair with the hand his bonded mate is not holding and smiles peacefully at him, "Well, then. Let's get some of that pressure off, huh?" He kisses Loki's forehead again and looks up, "Can someone please draw a warm bath? Not steaming, but not lukewarm. You remember Finn, sweetheart? Pepper and Tony's last?" He asks conversationally as he stands and casually strips himself down to his underthings, "Didn't have much choice but to help with the birth. You and Tony were off in Paris, I think, for one of those conferences that you guys used to like so much. He came faster than expected. Midwife couldn't get there because of a bad storm, you guys weren't going to get there on time. I was scared as hell, but in the end, it was so…calm. Pep had done it before, of course, but I just…I expected it to be like the movies. With the screaming and the cursing and bright light and…I don't know. But, it wasn't anything like that. Pepper had that birthing pool set up and after it was filled and warmed she got in and asked me to get in, too. We stayed in the water the entire time, me in there supporting her, breathing with her and even when Finn came he was calm, too. Something about going from a water environment into one, the midwife told me later. It was beautiful. Pep told me the bath can take a lot of pressure off, kind of let you float. You think it might help you?"

"Yes," Loki forces through gritted teeth, "Yes, please."

"Alright then."

Steven gently takes Loki into his arms and carries him into the bathing room where the large bath has been filled as he requested. The midwife and N'Daia support Loki as Steven gets into the bath and Frigga braids Loki's hair quickly to keep it out of his face. The moment they put Loki in the water and Steven helps him find a comfortable position, laying on his side with Steven supporting him the change in Loki is obvious. The despair in his eyes melts away and, while there are still lines of pain and discomfort on his face, they ease somewhat. Steven sets a big hand to Loki's belly and begins to hum gently and stroke the hardened flesh gently as the next contraction hits. Loki moans lowly, his eyes closing, and Steven only hums all the louder. The hum transforms into a melody and Loki's low moan begins to meld with it until they're humming together. When the contraction ends Loki pants, but Steven never stops humming. When the next contraction comes Loki's voice is strained, but he joins in the melody again.

"When the birthing is over, my queen, I would like to ask your permission to speak with your son's husband about this birthing technique. For a typical birth with no complications this is wonderful. Look at how much your son has calmed, how focused he is. It is beautiful."

"It is," Frigga agrees. She moves to the side of the bath, "Loki, my love, may I check you for readiness?"

Loki keeps his eyes closed, but nods, and she performs her examination as quickly and gently as possible before smiling at her son and his husband, "The first babe is ready, my lamb. You can push in the next pain."

"We can get you out of the bath, sweetheart, or you can stay in. Your choice. The babies won't try to breathe under the water."

Steven feels Loki's choice through their bond and nods to Frigga before helping Loki to turn onto his back, pulling up his knees and supporting them for Loki in the position in which he feels most comfortable. He doesn't even have it in him to be embarrassed by the position Frigga notes. There is no dignity, no modesty, in childbirth, she muses. Dignity in motherhood always, but none in the birthing. For all the time and effort it took to get to this point, all of Loki's pain and distress, it seems the Norns have decreed the last part of the birthing will be as conversely easy. Steven keeps up a steady stream of words of praise, love and encouragement, as Loki concentrates on pushing and within a quarter of an hour the first babe slips into the water. Just as Steven said, he doesn't try to breathe in the air until Frigga brings him above the water to lay him on Loki's chest. The midwife marvels at the serenity of both child and parents as the cord it cut and the afterbirth delivered. Steven and Loki simply gaze at the son, silently counting fingers and toes, unable to stop smiling when he gazes at them in return. There are tears on Steven's face as he kisses the downy head and then presses a kiss to Loki's upturned mouth. There is peace for exactly seven minutes before Loki draws his breath in sharply and nods at his mother. Frigga smiles as she takes the babe in arms and a warmed towel.

For the first time they hear the baby cry as he is taken from them to where another healer is waiting to record his birthing details. His voice is strong as he makes his displeasure known and Frigga coos at him softly as she helps the midwife clean the remaining birthing fluids from him, what little wasn't washed off in the water. Steven chuckles, then begins his litany of praise again as Loki begins to bear down to birth their second child. The second comes even easier than the first, simply slipping into the midwife's hands with the first push. She lays the babe on Loki's chest and completes her task with the second cord and afterbirth. Steven and Loki take the time with the second as they did with the first and hand him to N'Daia happily after they are satisfied. After the second babe is with the healer the midwife checks Loki over and heals the small damages the birthing caused. The relief on Loki's face is obvious when the spell takes away most of the pain and soreness. He is still exhausted, of course, only time will heal that and nearly falls asleep as Steven helps him wash his hair and body before drying them both and carrying Loki back to the bed, stripped and remade with clean linens. He sits behind his exhausted husband to support him just as Frigga and N'Daia bring the babies back into the room, swaddled, clean and settled. They lay the babes in Loki's pillow supported arms and sit on the bed to marvel at what the day has brought them with the new parents.

"They're perfect, my darlings," Frigga smiles at her youngest and his mate, "What are to be their names?"

"Buchannan," Loki says after a time, stroking a long finger down the bridge of one's nose. The babe, dark hair and golden complexion, reacts to the touch with a furrowed brow but does not awaken, "And Carter." The second babe, golden complexion like his father and brother, but lighter hair than the first, utters a cry at the touch and begins to root toward the finger when Loki touches it lightly to his mouth.

"Loki…I…really?" Steven asks, tears once again in his eyes.

"Yes," Loki's voice in certain and he smiles up at his husband.

"Thank you," Steven buries his head in Loki's shoulder, overcome for a moment, "Thank you so much. For this…for our children…for our lives. I love you so much."

"I love you, my darling," Loki responds.

Sensing the need of the family for some time to themselves Frigga stands. N'Daia stands with her and begins to shoo the healers and pages, assistants and apprentices out of the room.

"I am going to announce young Buchannan and Carter's births to the court," she leans over to kiss them both, "I'll make certain your father and brother are sober before I send them in to meet the newest additions to the family."

Loki and Steven laugh quietly as she sweeps from the room in the grand way only she can.

"I never thought I could be this happy," Loki sighs as he leans heavily against Steven's chest, "Or this tired."

"Then sleep, sweetheart," Steven kisses Loki's temple, "I've got you. I've got all of you."

Loki lets out a small, inelegant snore and Steve laughs before he settles back into the pillow, gently taking the babies one at a time out of Loki's arms and laying them in the sleeping basket that was settled on the bed for them when they came back to the room. He watches the sleeping babies for a time, then his sleeping husband and thinks that he never thought in all his life that he would ever get to be this happy. Yes, he has his family. His to protect and love. And that is just what he intends to do. Always.


End file.
